1 Shot Wednesday: Shoreline

North Shore, Kauai

Maybe by summer things will be back to normal. Today, my granddaughters, Jim and I are hunkered down at home because our schools have closed. It’s pelting rain. There’s a chill in the air that matches the anxious, solemn tone of anyone you meet or talk to on the phone. I also found out today from my doctor that I have an autoimmune condition called Sjögren’s disease. Good grief. Big sigh. To lift my spirits, I indulged by looking at Kauai pictures taken last May.

Here’s a sunny day. Escape and jump into the picture. Notice the white dots on the hill. Those would be the White Tern and Albatross. I have been looking forward to retirement in six years and daydreamed of travelling all over the place. One day, I hope to return to Kauai. It’s a magical place.

IMO: Cancer & Altered Carbon

My mother has cancer. In typical fashion, the salt-of-the-earth woman is facing stage four lung cancer far better than I am. I have worried and wept since October when her back pain led to an MRI, and she lit up like a Christmas tree. Red dots punctuated her lungs, her spine, and lymph nodes. I have flown to Illinois as often as work allows to assist and be a shoulder to lean on. In the end, it is I who needed consoling. My mother would have been a great Buddhist. Her motto: “It is what it is.” 

I say, “You’re dying.” She says, “I’m living with cancer.” 

Recent rain makes the desert flowers bloom prettily. Watch your step!

I flew to Illinois to be with her last weekend. She is alone which bothers me, but she is exactly where she wants to be, in her townhouse surrounded by her favorite possessions and independent. Her routine has always been simple. Wake up at six and turn the television on for background noise. Walk the dog three times a day. Take a nap after lunch. Watch Jeopardy. Watch the news again. Eat dinner. Watch a Netflix series. Go to bed at nine. Repeat. 

I’m shocked by how therapeutic it is to try on her routine and escape my job, my responsibilities, and my hobbies. Like water lapping on the shore, she is the moon that directs the day’s rhythm. I breathe and begin to relax in her company. We buy ice cream cones and take country drives looking for eagles. We laugh at my inability to adjust to the fancy BMW I rented (I didn’t ask for one; the cheap cars were taken and it was all they could offer me.). Our bodies creak as we try to get in and out of the thing. The speed and smooth ride were like the sprinkles that covered my chocolate cone–a sweet indulgence, indeed.     

To contrast the quiet days, I downloaded Altered Carbon, season one on my phone since I heard it was great, and I like Science Fiction. Each night under my covers after Mom went to bed, I watched a couple of episodes and was impressed with the Blade Runner vibe, sophisticated worlds, and plot twists. My favorite character is Poe, who is AI and wants to be human. He provides the comic relief and is more human than anyone else in the grisly, narcissistic world of the haves and the have-nots. It is violent and for mature audiences. I’d like to read the trilogy by Richard K. Morgan for which Netflix developed the television series in 2018.  

According to Forbes contributor, Paul Tassi, season two is less exciting due to budget cuts. Who knows about season three. You can read his article about season two HERE.  All I can say is season one was highly distracting from the solemn situation facing my family. It sure beats listening to the news and panicking over the Corona Virus.  I have plunged deep into creating the rough draft of my third book in a six-part series. It takes place in World War II and two major characters are Jewish sisters who find themselves in the Philippines, 1942. It’s a safe spot to be, writing about the 20th Century while watching the futuristic setting of the twenty-fifth century.

At the end of the month, the April newsletter will be sent to those who have shared their email addresses with me. You are encouraged to join them. I’ll be sharing the research and the process of writing historical fiction. E-mail me at cbruchman@yahoo.com, and I’ll add you to the list.

Love & Friendship,

Cindy

Dear Burt Lancaster,

I watched The Boy in the Striped Pajamas in class today. There’s a line where the Jewish doctor/potato peeler asks 8-year-old Bruno, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” It made me think about the span of human life in general. Youth is for daydreams and imagining your life ahead of you. We dream. We learn. We keep calm and carry on. As adults, beyond responsibilities, one dares of mastering a skill or flowering into something unique.

Burt, you had one Broadway play under your belt and Hollywood talent agent, Harold Hecht, persuaded producer Hal B. Wallis to sign you to an eight-movie contract. The move made you an instant star in 1946 with The Killers. Your lucky break turned into a 45-year career during which you were a four-time nominee for Best Actor, (winning for Elmer Gantry), two BAFTA Awards, and one Golden Globe (Elmer Gantry). Ah, what does this have to with The Boy in the Striped Pajamas? 

I finished Against Type: The Biography of Burt Lancaster by Gary Fishgall last night. I saw many of your movies during the Winter Project featuring your life and filmography. The Sweet Smell of Success, Come Back, Little Sheba, The Killers, Elmer Gantry, Seven Days in May, and Field of Dreams are my personal favorites. Thinking about your life, I can see that you did your best to become something special in the field of acting. You had a voracious appetite for life. You wanted to be your own man, call your own shots. You picked your roles, and started a production company. Lost it in the 1960s. You stayed in perfect shape and loved a lot of women in and out of wedlock. It bewilders me that you needed a wife. Monogamy was impossible. What did matter to you were your five children. You had several close friends who were loyal to you to the end. Passionate, argumentative, virile, you embodied the physical looks that made women swoon and men shiver with intimidation.

I think you were unselfish as an actor, Burt. Your passion was to be a part of a great picture. You took an active part in films by suggesting to the director what to do. You revised scripts and allowed co-stars to have the limelight. I think of many films where you stood there tall and broad and your costars flushed with extraordinary performances. Are you wooden? Or did you have that ability to inspire others to go deeper and express themselves by standing next to you?

When I think of you, I will remember a man at the end of his days whose eyes expressed wisdom and affable charm. I suppose that’s why I liked your bit part in Field of Dreams. I swear you weren’t acting on the screen. It was you. That’s how I like to remember you. You rose out of poverty from Harlem, became a circus performer, and transformed into a bonafide classical star. You didn’t stop. You lived true to your personality.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Well, obviously little Bruno and the life span of millions of Jews were severed tragically. I take life seriously, to a fault. I feel obligated to those who didn’t get the chance to chase after dreams or exist to enjoy the pleasures of nature and love and friendships. I admire people who live actively and with passion.

Burt, your children, and your friendships are a testament to your character. Your faults didn’t overcome you. What a tough act to play. You passed at age 80 in 1994. What more did you need out of life?

Thanks for the films, Burt. It was fun to get to know you this winter.

Sincerely,

Cindy