I have an important decision to make…and what I’m thinking of doing doesn’t feel right.
I won’t do it, no matter how logical may seem. I’ve learned my gut, my soul, has valuable things to say.
It’s almost as if logic and reasoning is the lazy way out sometimes, although I’ll never dismiss the necessity to reason through a life-changing or costly choice. Sometimes, however, what the prevailing wisdom might say is the right thing to do isn’t right for me.
When you know, down to your core, what you’re doing or about to do is wrong, it can be difficult to justify sometimes. The logic points one way, but the logic is missing some vital information.
There have been times when I’ve been told to trust people or trust a system I’m not familiar with, and my soul has known better. I knew once I was being led in the wrong direction by someone I should have been able to trust, desperately wanted to trust, and instead of saying, “this isn’t right,” I accepted his decisions. I was afraid not to; I had lost faith in too many people.
I should have let go. Ultimately, perhaps only a very short time later, my faith would have been restored. I likely would have found someone to trust, a person who could have provided me with the support and power I needed to rise above an impossible situation. Instead I let this individual lead me down a path where even more people betrayed me.
It was a horrible lesson to learn. Rational thinking has its place, but you can never dismiss the weight of knowing you don’t have all the facts.
I’ll make my decisions in the future using all the resources available to me, the rational, the instinctive, and yes, the spiritual, for all of my major decisions need to be doused in prayer for wisdom.
On Election Day 1996, my then-boyfriend and I deliberately misheard the weather forecast.
“It’ll be a great day for voting!” the meteoroligist said enthusiastically.
“Should be a fantastic turnout at the polls!” the news anchor responded.
Well, maybe short two people. Mark and I both heard, “it’ll be a great day for boating!” and decided that indeed, we should spend the day on the lake. I was between jobs and Election Day was a holiday at his company (seriously), so we were free to do as we pleased.
We fully intended to make it to the polls, but I truly don’t remember if either of us did or not. My memory is better focused on the fact that Mark let me take over the wheel of his beloved boat for a time, in fact, until I no longer wanted to steer.
This was remarkable for two reasons: one, the law required I take a safety class first, which I hadn’t yet completed, and Mark was strict about those rules. Two, Mark didn’t let anyone, I mean ANYONE, save himself steer that boat.
Our relationship had already hit a rocky point, and we broke up a few months later, but that was a good day. We were one of a very few boats on the lake that afternoon, making the lazy, rocking feel of slow cruising ideal.
We had our routine with the boating; he would start out at the wheel, while I stood on the dock and tossed the rope that tethered the boat when it wasn’t in use. After the rope was in the boat, I would leap into the back as it was pulling away. There was no room for error, but I never failed to safely make that jump.
We each had our soft drinks, and I think that day I had brought a book. The sky was clear, and a light breeze added to the comfort. We talked about inconsequential things, stayed away from politics, although we were (excuse the pun) on the same boat there. After a couple of hours, we headed back to his place for a barbeque.
Memories are a funny thing. After a breakup, it can be easy to forget what drew us in to the relationship in the first place. But that was a great day for boating.
On the last day of the late great Paco’s life, I sat in the waiting room at the Cat Clinic, waiting for Dr. Rose to tell me what I already knew.
Paco, some of you may recall, was my best buddy for more than 15 years, a feline friend who saw me through some of my toughest times. I was starting a new phase of my life, and I was at peace with the timing. More change would have been too hard on him. It was time to let go.
He had advanced kidney disease, so I’d known for some time this day was looming. But knowing, being at peace, none of that prepares for you the final good-bye.
As I sat waiting, I noticed a grey tabby mama cat in a kennel a couple of feet away from me. She had been rescued with four kittens, three of whom had already found good homes. It was her turn to be adopted, and the Cat Clinic had cleverly placed her in the waiting area for all to meet.
She was looking at me with such sweet and compassionate eyes, I knew she knew what was happening. I was losing my baby, and my heart was breaking.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “I’m okay.”
She didn’t break her gaze, but shifted closer to me.
“Thank you,” I whispered to her as the doctor called me into an exam room.
It was time, Dr. Rose told me. I would regret waiting any longer. I signed the papers and said good-bye to Paco.
As I walked out, I once again passed the little lady kitty. She looked at me, and I started to cry. I bent down and whispered, “I know you’ll find the best home ever.” She purred softly, her eyes so kind.
The best home ever for this one, I told the vet tech. She smiled and nodded agreement.
If I live to see 100, make that 101, let me live it like Olivia de Havilland, with class, humor…and in Paris.
Just last week, days before her birthday, she was given a damehood by Queen Elizabeth II for her services to drama. She is the oldest woman to receive this honor.
Dame Olivia was one of the top actresses of her time, with a career that spanned decades. She gained the respect of audiences and colleagues alike. But she represented more than just glamour and success. Through the influence gained by her talent, she fought for others, those without a voice, and changed lives as a result.
Publicity photo, circa 1945
A working woman in a sexist environment, she held her own against those who would pull her down and managed one of the most successful long-term careers in Hollywood history.
I’m far from the only one to take note of Dame Olivia’s qualities, now and then. In February 2016, The Oldie magazine, a satirical publication from London fighting ageism, named her “Oldie of the Year.”
Her response to that honor was delight and delightful. Over the years, her wit has shown in so many of her personal appearances, with a smile and a wink at life.
My fascination with and appreciation of Dame Olivia de Havilland began when I was high school, at the same school she had graduated from in 1934, Los Gatos High School in Los Gatos, Calif.
The summer between my junior and senior years I had a job working in the school library, and my tasks included repairing older books. One of those was the school’s 1934 yearbook, and the librarians turned a blind eye as I spent a little too much time looking for all mention of her. Even then, she stood out from her peers in her poise and class in front of a camera.
Classic movie fans, indeed anybody familiar with her work,
will know her best for two roles, as Melanie in Gone With the Wind and as the dashing Errol Flynn’s most frequent leading lady.
As Melanie in “Gone With the Wind”
She was nominated for an Academy Award as Best Supporting Actress for her work in Gone With the Wind in 1939, but it wasn’t until she starred in the phenomenal film To Each His Own in 1946 that she won her first Oscar, for Best Actress in a Leading Role. That was followed three years later by the same award for one of my favorite of her films, The Heiress.
In between those two wins, she received a Best Actress nomination for The Snake Pit, a ground-breaking film about the treatment of the mentally ill. Bringing those images to the screen created public awareness of the plight of millions, and those who suffer from mental illness today can be thankful for her work in what I hope & pray is now a long-outdated portrayal of institutionalization.
She had one sister, the late Joan Fontaine. Miss Fontaine was a year younger, and the two are the only sisters in Academy Award history to each win an Oscar for Best Actress.
For those who aren’t aware,
in Hollywood’s early years what was known as the studio system reigned, in which actors and actresses were under contract and controlled by the strict standards and seeming whims of the studio executives. Dame Olivia took her studio, Columbia Pictures, to court in 1943 and won, and the resulting decision changed labor laws, greatly reduced studio power and began the decline of the contract system.
As a result it was almost impossible for her to find work for a couple of years, but at the end of that time she began a comeback that reduced that gap in her work to a non-entity in her overall career.
Perhaps there were times in those years when she wondered if she should have been the one to take that stand. Even if she never wavered in her pride in her decision, she likely cried or otherwise railed over the blacklisting of her talent. I don’t know enough about her to know what her reaction may have been, except it would have been human.
She has stood her ground again, and filed a lawsuit against the FX network, suing for infringement of common law right of publicity, invasion of privacy and unjust enrichment. Her claim is based on the “inherently untrue” portrayal of her as a bitchy gossip-monger, something records readily available to producers would show to be false.
She was, rather, known to be gracious and kind, a woman who refrained from gossip and treated all with respect and dignity.
With President George W. Bush, receiving the National Medal of Arts
Although she is an American citizen, Dame Olivia has lived in Paris since 1960. She continued to act until the 1980s, and her last major public event was in 2008 when she was presented with the National Medal of Arts.
Our high school has an annual award, “The De Havilland Cup,” given to a student for a monologue performance. That tradition has lasted more than 70 years, and I expect it will continue for many more to come. It is a fine tribute to her talent and dedication to her craft, for it takes both those qualities to win this award.
Dame Olivia de Havilland was a force in Hollywood, and remains a strong & gracious woman. She is one of the last living stars from the Golden Age of Hollywood, that wonderful era from the 30s to 40s.*
Happy 101st birthday, Dame Olivia, and congratulations for a long and marvelous career, for your dignity and poise, for representing the best for working women everywhere.
*Those familiar with the “Golden Age of Hollywood” know that much of the work created during that time was a product of the studio system. It was a wonderful era for film, but not so much, perhaps, for many of the actors and actresses.
Last summer I received an adoption announcement from a friend of mine, Brock. He and his partner, Dan, had a new little girl. Her name was Allison, but they called her Sunny.
I hadn’t heard from Brock in several years. We’d worked together ages ago, before he and Dan had met, but at a time when Brock was anxious to start his own family. It was a challenge, since he’s gay, and at the time, decidedly single.
The picture that came with the notice showed Brock standing next to a beaming Dan, cradling a baby I guessed to be about six months old. While Brock was smiling, there was a sadness in his eyes. Ever curious, I decided to call my one-time close friend. After all, he’d included his phone number in the announcement.
“HELLO!” He cried out when he heard my name. “I was hoping you’d call! I found your address, but couldn’t track down your phone number.”
In the background a baby was crying. “I hear sounds of a family,” I said. “I’ll keep this short.”
That call, however, was destined to be longer. While Dan comforted Sunny, Brock told me how she came into their lives.
Brock, you see, had an identical twin brother, Calvin. Calvin was straight, and like his twin, took his time settling down. Four years earlier he’d married a woman Brock was thrilled with, Anna.
Calvin and Anna had wanted children right away, but it took them several years to finally carry a baby to full-term. That baby was Allison, which, it turns out, is Anna’s middle name. As soon as she was born, Brock flew out to meet her, and he was the one who started calling her Sunny.
Sunny, however, was anything but a happy baby. She cried constantly, and while doctors initially dismissed it as first-time parental concern, a nurse finally took note and convinced Sunny’s pediatrician to run some tests. They discovered a heart defect and immediately took her in for surgery.
The surgery was successful and Sunny’s recovery was complete, but Calvin and Anna had a hard time leaving her side. Finally, when she was four months old (and by this time, a truly sunny baby), they left her in the care of Anna’s sister, who herself has four children.
It was a terribly windy night, and Calvin and Anna cut their evening short, concerned the weather was going to get worse. Three miles from their home, their sporty little Miata swerved or was blown across the median, and was hit by a semi. Both Calvin and Anna were dead at the scene.
Brock got the call, and flew out immediately. He desperately wanted to adopt Sunny, and after all, he was the godfather, but Anna’s sister was the godmother, and he was certain if there were a legal battle, he would lose.
Anna’s sister, however, liked Brock, and told him while she would happily adopt Sunny, she felt strongly he was meant to be her father. Sunny, you see, looks just like Calvin and Brock did at that age.
More than that, Anna’s sister knew this was perhaps the best opportunity for Brock and Dan to become parents. She only asked that she remain Sunny’s godmother. Brock eagerly agreed, and adoption proceedings were nearly immediate.
But there remains sadness in Brock’s eyes. He lost his brother, his closest friend, his twin. He is overjoyed at having a baby, and one who carries his DNA, no less, but is working through the pain.
I told him Sunny is a lucky little girl to have so many people who love her. I told him I was sorry for his loss, and I knew his emotions would be complicated.
Every day is a gift, Brock told me. Growing up, he had Calvin.
It’s almost as if logic and reasoning is the lazy way out sometimes, although I’ll never dismiss the necessity to reason through a life-changing or costly choice. Sometimes, however, what the prevailing wisdom might say is the right thing to do isn’t right for me.
It was a horrible lesson to learn. Rational thinking has its place, but you can never dismiss the weight of knowing you don’t have all the facts.
Paco, some of you may recall, was my best buddy for more than 15 years, a feline friend who saw me through some of my toughest times. I was starting a new phase of my life, and I was at peace with the timing. More change would have been too hard on him. It was time to let go.
My World With Words 
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