Film Trailer

Sunday, December 23, 2007

CONTINUING ON THE TRIP TO BRUSSELS

12/22/07

...continued



But it was with my Mom, at 88, independent and full of life, who suddenly collapsed one day with a malignant brain tumor, where all of my adult growth came together. As my sister and I knew from her directives, we had surgery to remove her tumor at John’s Hopkins Hospital. She rehabbed there and was brought back to her own home, miraculously finding a committed Philippine caregiver named Pita to stay with her. I spent the majority of eight months back in Virginia assisting in her care with my sister. Spending day after day doing the simplest things with my mother. Reading the paper, re-teaching this bridge whiz how to play cards again. I did the food shopping in suburban supermarkets specializing in promotions getting 10 for $10. 10 for 10 became my mantra. I took her to most of her radiation and chemo treatments and to see her doctors. I was lucky to be able to be there.


My mom and I had our own joke that we shared every day. We’d drive from Mclean to the hospital in Arlington for her radiation treatment and I would get Mom out of the car and into the lobby of the hospital in her wheel chair. I’d wheel her to a quiet spot to wait for me while I went to park the car. As I turned to go back out I would look back in her wheelchair and say to her with pointed finger “And remember….” and Mom would cut me off responding “Don’t go anywhere!” She got it. These were great gifts to me. Learning what was demanded of husbands and sons and being able to deliver. Not perfectly but with care. The great luck was that I had the time and means to be there for those I loved. Lucky for them and for me.


This is where I am now: the movie is finished and we’re looking to align the project with two charities that can make a difference in the lives of folks not as lucky. People who have to work full time jobs, have dependents, can’t get off for the time they need to hold the hands of loved ones at the end of their lives. People who want to just be there when it counts, to calm and reassure during difficult times. This is becoming my extended mission now. For one I want to aid in finding a cure for Mesothelioma, the disease that took Valerie from me, but I also want to help a hands-on group that will make a difference in important lives as they near their end.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

ON THE TRIP TO BRUSSELS AT CHRISTMAS TIME

12/22/07


I’m off to Brussels to spend Christmas and New Years with my girlfriend Catherine and her family. I’ve been bumped up to business class on British Air, which will make the first leg of the 14 hour trip more comfortable. The translucent wall has been lowered and I’m telling fellow travelers, who are sitting across from me, about Dying to Live to their sincere interest. You never know where the next advocate will surface. I realize that my focus really has shifted to getting the movie out to the widest possible audience. I’m looking forward to spending the next ten days with Catherine and her family. They are straightforward and close. I’m honored to be a part of their loop.

I’ve often felt that I was one of the luckiest guys in the world. First of all I was lucky to have had such a passionate and honest relationship with my late wife Valerie for 21 years. I had more authenticity and love in 21 seconds with her than some guys experience in a lifetime. Now, during the holidays, I am yearning for Valerie and missing her. It’s like there is a hole in my heart that can never be filled.


Sitting here in the glow of the receding sun and listening to the hum of the jets, it’s easy to reflect. I realize that I’ve always had a lot of luck. Tall, athletic, blonde hair and blue eyes. When I was growing up my sister called me “The Prince,” way before it became fashionable to refer to the female gender of the clan as a “Jewish American Princes.”


I was lucky to meet my mentors in the theater. They brought me forward on many levels. Rip Torn told me it was good luck to make love on a stage when I was in a production of Hamlet with him while training as an actor at the Circle in the Square Theater and having a fling with the stage manageress. Maureen Stapleton referred to me as “ a perfect person” to one thousand of her closest friends. Paul Newman, after seeing a short video I’d put together with his daughter Susan on the Pinter play “The Lover,” told me: “You have a very strong presence and you’re obligated to do something with it.” These are the kinds of things you remember at a certain time of life. It’s the foundation of your own self-support system.


Of course there was luck and synchronicity when I met some of the most important people in my life like Valerie, my close college and theater friends, and the playwrights John Shaner & Bernard Slade who gave me opportunity and confidence to passionately grow my work.


Than there was the different luck I had when I was able to actually affect people’s lives when they needed it most. When Valerie was dying and we were able to have her at home for a few more months and I was able to be there with her everyday. Also, when my aunt Bess went back into the hospital with congestive heart failure during this same period and I was able to be with her before and after Valerie’s chemo treatments. I had the time, means and love to be with them so that they wouldn’t experience fear in those unknown moments. It was a gift to me.


Was it luck a bit later when I advocated for our friend Sam to have his feeding tube removed after Valerie had died, when this once vital man was staring at walls from dementia and I knew he would have never wanted to be in that position?


To be continued...