Movies

This time of year is normally a busy movie-going time for me. While I have seen some of the major ones this season, my normal passion has temporarily left me. Part of my joy of going to the movies was going with my movie buddy, Cindy. Our taste in movies was close to identical. Not many people I know can take the dark and brutal independent films that I love so much, and still enjoy a light-hearted throw-away chick flick. Not to mention being available on a weekday morning when we'd have the theatre to ourselves.

One of our favorites was the documentary about legendary photographer Eddie Adams. Cindy had actually met a friend of Eddie's, Nick Ut, who was famous for the photo of the little girl running in the street with napalm burns.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1226261/

The last movie we saw together was The Invention of Lying, which was a fun throw-away with Ricky Gervais. The thing we both loved about going to the movies was the shared emotion. We'd learn things about each other that we may not have known otherwise. I had no idea she was reading the article about the LA Times writer who developed a relationship with a homeless person until Robert Downey Jr. played the journalist in The Soloist. Never before had Cindy cried more than I did. She had no idea I was a fainter until Salma Hayak got a morphine shot in Frida and I had to leave. I still don't know if she ever saw the last 10 minutes of that movie.

As I started writing I realized I didn't even know when the Oscars are going to air, so imagine my surprise when I found it's actually on Cindy's birthday! I guess it's a reminder that everything is a reminder when you miss someone close to you. When she got to shoot the Oscars a couple years ago, she was more excited about making connections with people than seeing the big stars. We shared a passion for the heart connection we get from films.

I will find my passion again. How can I resist with movies like The Young Victoria and The Hurt Locker beckoning me? And I will be eating popcorn, watching the Oscars, ooing and aahing at the dresses and the hair, and I'll be thinking of Cindy.

deconstruction

Last weekend I began the difficult process of clearing out my late friend Cindy's house. This is the 3rd time I've been involved with a task like this, but experience only seems to muddy things. Letting go of material things is a step toward accepting the finality of the situation, so the mind begins to play tricks. "I can't let this go to good will, we bought it together the last time we went shopping." I begin to find significance in every little item. Holding on to the open bottles of vinegar in her pantry, my brain argues, will help me make better salad dressing. The kind she used to make.

The other thing about deconstructing a household is that our homes are reflections of who we are, how we lived, what was important to us. Which begs the question, how does my life look according to my home? Mine immediately says animals live here and all animals are welcome. Hopefully no skunks are reading this.

My home also says I'm not much on design--my spin is that I don't care much about material things. Truthfully, I'm lazy about measuring and hanging things and matching things. It all sounds a bit overwhelming. It's not that I don't appreciate the effort other people make to improve the looks of their houses. I just can't seem to make a decision (and haven't for the last 8 years) on what kind of curtains I'd like in my bedroom. And so the ugly mini-blinds remain. I have plenty of function, not a lot of form.

The best thing about my house is how much art I have hanging on the walls. I have a few pieces of Cindy's work, a few of my friend Leslie's and most of my husband Tim's. I always wished I could paint a canvas or take great photos, so I'm in awe of those close to me who are so very talented.

The worst room in our house is our bathroom. While I have a quaint 1945 ranch style home, the bathroom was redone during the style-abomination 70s, explaining the faux-marble sink top and the drop ceiling with neon lighting. Hideous. I know a woman who almost single-handedly redid her bathroom, which I never knew was possible, and it looks amazing. I would no more trust myself to pick out a sink than to drive a bus through Manhattan. And so the sea horse-tile remains. I still bathe daily.

I am forever grateful to my friend's family and her husband's family for allowing me in to such an intimate, grievous, profoundly life-changing event. I know she would hate to see her families whom she loved so much in so much pain. But she'd also be very proud of how respectful and generous they've been with each other and with me.

p.s. A quick update on my neighbor whose family lives in Haiti--all are accounted for and while they've got plenty more than remodeling woes, they are thankfully alive and safe.

Help for Haiti

My next door neighbor has a lot of family in Haiti and she has no idea about their well-being. Talk about bringing it close to home. Maggie is one of those rare individuals who seems to have an endless amount of love to give to her family and patients (she's an amazing nurse). The very least I could do was donate to one of my favorite non-profit orgs, "Doctors Without Borders." If that's not your thing, go to the weather channel for a list of other non profits and act on your compassion.

https://donate.doctorswithoutborders.org/SSLPage.aspx?pid=197&hbc=1&source=ADQ1001E1D01

http://www.weather.com/outlook/weather-news/news/articles/haiti-quake-charity-info_2010-01-13?from=hp_news1

Tribute to Cindy

I'm not much of a diary keeper, but after ordering Cindy's Blog in book form, I realized how important it is to share of ourselves. I love documentation, although consistency is challenging for me. So forgive me if my blog is sporadic, but I must at least try to share a little more of myself. It's how I can keep a little more of my beautiful late friend Cindy Schafer, who was taken from us much too soon.

I've been hoping for a dream with Cindy in it. When I lost my best friend Gladys at the age of 20 (she was 22), I dreamt about her all the time. For some reason, I haven't had one dream with Cindy in it directly, although the content of my dreams has been about the loss. Last night I dreamed my father-in-law wanted to go fishing at a trout farm that was charging $35 per person. The man taking the money let me go without charging me because he thought it was good that I was indulging Henry in his request.

See? It's still about Cindy, because life is short and we need to be kind to each other. I don't have that natural temperament that Gladys and Cindy both had. I tend to be intolerant, hot-headed, judgmental. But I'm working on it. Yoga helps. Eating healthy helps. Getting rest, keeping short accounts with family and friends. Setting boundaries.

I'd like to live every day like it's my last. Then I won't have regrets.