I would’ve happily been his love. Well, at least when I was 20. I was a solid groupie of the Greg Kihn Band for a brief part of 1979 with a kihng-size crush on Greg. {My kids asked if I was sure if I was a real groupie…well, as they defined it, I guess I was a big fan!} I was a typical ’70’s kid. I had posters of David Cassidy and Bobby Sherman on my wall next to my sister’s posters of Elton John and Bernie Taupin. We were fangirling back then. But nothing prepped me for my big crush on Greg.
Before their breakthrough with “The Breakup Song” and “Jeopardy”, there were many of us who crowded The Old Waldorf down at the SF Embarcadero as well as other local venues to listen to this great up and coming Bay Area band. They had a great vibe.
I had their first four albums which I played non-stop. I knew all the lyrics…I still know some of them to this day. But for most of 1979, Greg Kihn song lyrics were written all over my journals. The lyrics from the songs shaped, probably adversely, what I expected from romance. When he went super low in “Last of Me”, “…after the magic passes, I will still believe…”, Wow! “You will never see the end of love or the last of me.” Romantic magic. And we will never see the last of Greg and his band because we have their music.
Greg Kihn was my music. You know, the music you find. Just like Neil Young. My brother is a Deadhead, and I loved the Dead too, but not like the GKB. I don’t remember how I found about him, but when I did, I became a rabid fan. No one that I knew, except my sister Linda’s friend Cheryl, was as much as a fan as I was. I went to many shows at the Old Waldorf wearing my red beret. I know he saw me a few times, I’m sure of it. I was hoping he would write a song about the Girl in the Red Beret…but, alas, no.
I never met him, but those four albums have been with me through thick and thin. Through decades of raising kids, through a sad divorce and even now entering my golden years, I will drop that vinyl and get to work rocking out to “Rendevous” and “In the Naked Eye”. I had Greg Kihn Again on loop just this last Sunday.
But, Greg, you were supposed to live longer than 75. Your smooth voice and wonderful songs are now immortal. You are immortal now. Nothing can transport me back to those early adult years like “For You”, “Beside Myself” and “Madison Avenue” as well as “Chinatown”, “Politics” and “Last of Me”. Thank you!
I texted my kids that he passed. They know what kind of loss this is for me. They were raised on the four albums. They don’t get my sadness for this particular singer. But, I’ll just tell them, he was my Prince. They’ll understand that. He was.
It’s hard to let these icons of our past go. Willie Mays just died; boy, the Bay is taking a hit. But, this one hurts so bad that I am beside myself. I know that this kind of love can make a fool of you, but I’m not about to put it in jeopardy by dismissing it as trivial because Greg was a real big man in life.
Although Greg didn’t make his cold hard cash on Madison Avenue, he did earn the same kind of respect and admiration as the man who shot Liberty Valance. So I intend to have a rendezvous on another lonely Saturday night, and will remember and feel sorry for everybody else who loved this fallen idol.
RIP, Greg, Steve and Dave. Thanks so much for great rockihnroll!
Here’s another one of my attempts to get published in Woman’s World.
Liz pulled her Mercedes into the grocery store parking lot and jumped out. She had an hour for lunch and had to shop fast. She wasn’t ready for tonight’s Labor Day barbecue, but she promised Mitzi she’d bring her famous salsa. She grabbed a cart and sped into the grocery store. She whizzed through produce grabbing tomatoes, peppers, onions and cilantro.
As she zoomed passed the refrigerated items, she noticed a man with a small child. She stopped her cart and thought, “I know that guy.” Something in the way he stood, in the manner of his stance reminded her of someone. Who was it? She looked back and he was gone. He reminded her of someone…someone nice, the pleasant memory was coming back.
Years ago, when she was married and her children were small, she and Mitzi took their kids to Frontier Park. She remembered seeing a tall man there. The way he stood was both distinct and impressive. Oh, yes, it was Mitzi’s cousin. What was his name? Marvin, Martin….Marty! Yeah, Marty. She did, in fact, meet him, and what was pleasant about the memory is the way he made her feel. He made her feel seen when she was going through a hard time in her marriage. His warmth and kind eyes were genuinely caring and understanding.
“Marty. That’s it.” She said out loud and woke from her reverie. Remembering her immediate task, she chided herself, “Focus, Liz.” She got the tortilla chips and then made her way to the bakery. She turned the corner so fast that she nearly knocked over a little boy.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you OK?” Liz stooped down to the little boy.
“Watch it, lady, you trying to run me over?” he snapped back with a pugnacious grin.
“No, no, I’m just in a hurry.” She chuckled and stood up. She was met with the same kind brown eyes she remembered. It was Marty. Older, distinguishably gray, and still tall.
“I’m so sorry.” She blushed.
“It’s OK; it’s usually Eddie the one running into people. Don’t I know you?” Marty asked.
“Yeah, I recognized you too. You’re Mitzi’s cousin?”
“Yep, that’s me,” he confirmed. “And don’t tell me, you’re Mitzi’s friend from the park…hold on, I can remember. Liz! But I forgot your last name.”
“That’s OK, it was Garcia then, but now I’m back to my maiden name.”
“I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, no, that’s a good thing,” she replied. “So you still have small kids?”
“He’s not mine, I mean, he’s not my kid…he’s my grandson.” Marty explained. “Eddie, this is Liz…Liz, this is Eddie.”
“Nice to meet you,” Eddie said sheepishly. He then tugged on his grandfather’s sweatshirt. “Can I please have an ice cream?” Marty mouthed “wait”.
Liz stooped down again, and put out her hand, “Nice to meet you, Eddie.” Eddie reluctantly shook her hand.
“I can’t believe you have grandkids. We’re not old enough to be grandparents. My kids are still in college.” She laughed.
“Well, technically, that’s old enough.” He smiled warmly, and Liz’s knees went a little weak.
“I guess you’re right…” she conceded. “So you still live around here? I thought you moved.”
“We did, but after my wife passed, and my son convinced me to move back here.” Marty added. “Less lonely.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Thanks, it’s been tough. But things are getting easier.” Marty answered her in a way to deflect the awkwardness.
Liz checked her watch, “hey, I’ve got to go, only an hour for lunch.”
“What…you’re working on Labor Day? That doesn’t seem right.”
“I know! But someone’s gotta delivery the Labor Day babies!”
“Doctor?” He quizzed.
“No, midwife.”
“That’s very rewarding work…bringing in new life,” he approved.
“It is, every life is so special, but today is a big joke…’cause Labor Day and, uhm, yeah, you know…;” She began stumbling over her words. “Anyway, it was really nice seeing you again.” She blushed as she turned her cart to leave.
“Hey, Liz, are you going to Mitzi’s tonight?” Marty wondered.
“I’ll be there with my infamous salsa!”, she announced, pointing to the contents of her cart. “You?
“I wasn’t planning on it, but I guess I will now.”
“Maybe we can catch up then.” She hoped she wasn’t being too anxious.
“I’d like that.” He said. “See you tonight.”
Liz felt that feeling again of being seen. Putting his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, Marty said, “Come on, Eddie. We gotta go, Papa’s gotta get ready for an important party tonight.”
“Can I get an ice cream…please, Papa?” Eddie begged.
Every year, Katie’s quiet hometown hosts a spectacular Harvest Festival. Thousands come far and wide to attend wreaking havoc on the local traffic. The landscape is dotted with old red barns, orange pumpkins, and an array of seasonal decorations. Pumpkin pie is everywhere.
Katie’s quilt booth stands out. Aside from the neatly stacked handmade quilts she has sewn to the many antique quilts she has collected, she is confident she will make many sales. She adds bunches of sunflowers to the display with lighted autumn accents. This year’s weather is perfectly magical as a gentle warm wind comes off the hills and the cozy sun greets the crisp October morning. She wraps her fingers around her coffee cup and drinks in the moment.
“Heeey…” Katie answered her phone. “Are you coming?” She asked her friend, Leslie.
“We’re already here, getting coffee with Jeff…and his uncle. Is Pete there?”
“Nah, he’s not coming…we broke up. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it, today is too nice.” Katie answered.
“I’m…NOT sorry, I didn’t like him. You want anything?” Leslie asked.
“I’m good. I had one of those pumpkin spice awesome mega-muffins. You should try one, they’re good. A million calories though.”
“I might, see you soon.”
The morning breezed by. Katie enjoyed the throng of people who walked past, and especially the customers who bought quilts. She handed out dozens of business cards. The one downside of boothing was missing the Festival itself, but she was glad to have a space.
Leslie, Jeff and Jeff’s uncle finally appeared… and Jeff’s uncle wasn’t the old man Katie expected. He was a handsome man about Jeff’s age.
“Hey….” Katie rushed to Leslie with a grateful embrace. “You OK?” Leslie whispered.
“Yeah, I’m fine…”
“Katie, this is Jason…Jeff’s uncle.” Leslie introduced.
Katie extended her hand. “Nice meeting you…Uncle?”
“You were expecting an old man, weren’t you?” He smiled shaking her hand.
“I did,” Katie chuckled.
“I’ve got Benjamin Button disease, you know, I age in reverse.” Jason teased.
“Really, Jason,” Jeff explained, “My mom is his oldest sister, and he’s the youngest, so we grew up together.”
“I see…I think.” Katie replied.
“You know, I’ve lived here all my life, and always avoided this event because of the crowds, but it’s not so bad.” Jason observed.
“I told you it’d be fun.” Jeff said.
“Jason works at the School District, building new schools, right?” Leslie was letting Katie know he was employed.
“I work in the Facilities Department where we do build new schools and other stuff.” Jason added.
“Sounds like a good job,” Katie said. Behind Jeff and Jason, Leslie pointed to her ring finger and shook her head. Katie nodded, and gave Jason another look. He was definitely attractive in a shy kind of way; hmm, this day might get even better, she hoped.
“Hey, why don’t we run the booth, and you and Jason check out the fair.” Jeff suggested.
“I don’t know, I would love to, but…” Katie glared at Leslie.
“Oh just get outta here; cash box, business cards, anything else I need?” Leslie asked.
“No, I guess that’s it, are you sure?”
“Yes, get out of here!” Leslie ordered, smiled and waved them away.
“She’s quite a character,” Jason commented while they walked. Katie looked over her shoulder to see a winking Leslie.
“She is, and the best of friends. Her and Jeff…great couple.” They walked in silence and Katie sensed an exhilarating awkwardness, an exciting foreboding.
“Jeff found a good one,” Jason said nervously, “So is this quilt thing your full time job?”
“No, my hobby, I work in the City, but I live here. I love this town.” Katie relished the ease she had talking to him.
“Me and Jeff grew up here, and most of our family still live here.”
“How big is your family?” Katie asked.
“My sister, Alexis, Jeff’s mom, is the oldest of ten, and I’m the baby. Me and Jeff are the same age. He’s an only child, so we really are like brothers.”
“That must be nice, a big family…” Katie envied large families.
“What about you? Your family nearby?” He asked as they shuffled through the crowd.
“No, it’s just me, my dad died after I graduated high school, and my mom passed a few years ago. She’s the one who taught me to make quilts.” She smiled wistfully as the sun glinted in her watery green eyes.
“I’m really sorry,” he went to touch her shoulder in comfort, but the crowds separated them.
“Katie!” he called. She turned and tried to make her way back to him. He reached out over a group of kids to take her hand. She looked into his brown eyes and felt something she’d never felt before: a warmth, a comfort, a sense of belonging, and something magical happened. She clasped his strong hand and would never let it go.
I was sad to hear of Willie Mays’ death last week. Willie Mays, the quintessential baseball player, the “Say Hey” kid, was world famous and probably one of the best baseball players ever. Baseball has always been big in America. It was big in the ’60’s. It was big in San Francisco. Baseball was a big part of my childhood too, not so much in watching it, but in playing it. And in the wake of Willie’s death, the memories of those childhood years come barrelling back…
As the icons of our childhood pass into eternity, the throbs of mortality amplify and those rose-colored memories of the past continue to dim. Willie Mays represents to me the memories of not only baseball, but also summer, childhood, youth and innocence. My Americana, if you will.
I went to a Giants game years ago with my friend, Leslie. It was a day game during the week. I found out where all the men my age and older were. They were at the game. Why were all those guys – men my brother’s age – there? Because of Willie Mays. Their childhood is there.
Baseball, like in Field of Dreams, brings back those memories. Our memories as a nation, as a region – the Bay Area – and my own personal memories. Memories of playing catch with my dad, playing on the softball team in Santa Rosa and watching my brothers play Little League. Willie Mays was playing at the height of his career during the height of my childhood in the Sixties. I don’t know his stats, or his awards – they are plenty, I’m sure – but I know he was great and he was ours. So when he died last week, it seems a large part of my childhood faded with him. A reminder of how America used to be. The part that was carefree and innocent. The part that is so foreign to today’s world.
Although baseball is a spring sport, the full season encompasses all of summer. Playoffs are reserved for the fall which are eclipsed by football, at least in my childhood household. Unless, of course, my mother had control of the TV. Diehard Yankees Fan…I have no idea why. My summer memories always default to the summers of my youth, summers at the Russian River, summers in Santa Rosa, and even the cold summers in Daly City. And those summers, which unfortunately are not replicated in the present, were filled with adventure, play and mystery. Relics of the past.
Hiking the hill behind Ms. Nielsen’s Guerneville cabin with hobo paraphernalia–we thought we were hobbits even before we heard of Lord of the Rings. Walking around the horseshoe on Wright Drive by the Castegnetto’s house thrilled me. Hoping for some great adventure or running into a cute boy who might like me. And, finally, swimming day in and day out – water skiing, boat rides, boat races, and mud fights. Days spent at the Russian River diving for rocks, racing across the river and back flips, back dives and cannonballs. Days of Innocence and Self-Forgetfulness. Days filled with simple curiosity and joy. These are the days of endless childhood. But, alas, they did end. Childhood jumped into turbulent adolescence and then into the long, rocky stretch of adulthood.
But the thought of Willie Mays, like Fogerty’s song Centerfield, has a way of transporting me back, back to that time when baseball represented more than the game…it represented the times: riding bikes, playing sardines in a can and all the aspects of childhood. But Willie has passed, reminding us again that those cherished memories of the past have passed as well. I can’t see them so well anymore.
Willie and Baseball were a happy part of America’s past, at least for me and many others. I know not for everyone, the Sixties were tough. Thank you, Willie, for all you gave to Baseball, to San Francisco and to America. Rest in Peace.
I was going through old documents this afternoon and found this gem. Vicky graciously allowed me to share it on my blog. This story is from the spring of 2011.
Who says dreams come true? Vicky Vasconcelos says they do. Vicky, a San Mateo resident, returned last week from a three-day whirlwind trip to Chicago. Details cannot be fully revealed until after today and tomorrow’s airings of Oprah’s Surprise Celebration, but she revealed enough of her Cinderella story to excite and inspire us all.
Vicky has been a long time fan of the Oprah Winfrey show. For years she has scoured the website for opportunities to get tickets to the show, but to no avail. However, in March (of 2011), Vicky innocently responded to a request on the show’s website. The website was asking for pictures of viewers holding a poster saying in a single sentence how the Oprah Show had changed their lives. The picture was to be taken by a landmark in the area in which they lived. Vicky took a picture of herself in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. and sent it in. The next day, the producer from the Oprah Winfrey show called her and asked her if she’d sign a waiver so the picture can be used in a montage. Vicky signed the waiver, and thought was the end of it.
Three weeks later, she got a call at her office from the producer of the Oprah Show again, telling her she had great news. The show wanted to fly Vicky out to Chicago to be a part of a surprise celebration at the United Center honoring Oprah Winfrey and her 25 years of the show; she was told she could not tell anybody except for her family because it was a secret. Vicky commented that Oprah already knew about the celebration because she heard her and Gayle King talking about it on the radio show. The producer said Oprah knows about the show because she hates surprises; but she doesn’t know the details of who is going to be on. Over 500 employees worked tirelessly to put this two-day extravaganza together, and Vicky was to be a part of it. She flew out first class on United to Chicago on the 16th, and her dream began.
Vicky stayed at the Omni Hotel where all of Oprah’s guests stay. She was treated like a queen, limousines to bring her wherever she needed to be, room service, celebrities all over the place, and a show she will never forget. Vicky was one of eight people chosen to be part of the show. She had, along with the others, specially marked seats not far from where Oprah was sitting. The star-studded event had headline names from music, television and sports, not to mention the audience was filled with many celebrities and professional athletes.
When she was asked what difference Oprah’s show made in her life, she wrote on her sign, “I Am Now Debt Free.” For a single mom, who has worked 40+ hours a week for the past 25 years (in 2011…add 13 years), the advice she learned from Oprah’s guests like Suze Orman and Jean Chatzky enabled her to become financially independent and investment savvy. When asked what her favorite Oprah show was, she said the one where Oprah pulled a prank on her attorney and posed as a McDonald’s employee. Oprah was taking orders at the drive-thru window when her lawyer pulled up and, not knowing that it was she, was impatient and a little rude. When he came around and saw her, he was mortified and later publicly apologized for his behavior. From someone who is in the customer service industry, Vicky appreciated that episode because Oprah exposed some of the difficulties customer service representatives face everyday.
For 25 years, The Oprah Winfrey Show has inspired, infuriated, educated, and entertained millions and millions of people. There is not a generation today that has not been touched by these broadcasts. And I am happy to know someone who appeared on her show…with such a grand story to tell.
I recently returned from the first annual C.S. Lewis Foundation Writers’ Conference at the beautiful, and elevated, Glen Eyrie Castle in Colorado Springs. It was a breathtaking, heart throbbing experience.
I’d like to say that I hobnobbed with writers from all over the country carrying on easy, “unanxious”, conversations about our favorite Lewis writings. I’d like to say that I made new friends, attended all the functions and came away with new contacts to enrich my writing career. I’d like to even say that an agent or publisher was so entranced, enthused and excited about my writing projects that I came home with some serious potential publishing pathways.
Alas, no…as George Smiley often said in “Smiley’s People”.
What really happened… Now, the folks who know me know I have close relationship with anxiety, heights and excessive speeds. So no flying or freeways for me. I work around that to the consternation of some of my kids.
My friend and I enjoyed the day and a half train ride to Denver, and held on for dear life during a fast Uber ride to Colorado Springs (I asked her to go slower, but I guess in Colorado, 75 is slow). All was good, no anxiety…yet. We got to our room in the late afternoon with some time to glimpse the beautiful surroundings. Oh, this is gonna be so cool!
The next day, before the evening kick-off to the conference, we wandered the Glen Eyrie site a bit, found some birds…of course, and made a quick jaunt to Garden of the Gods. By the time we got to Garden of the Gods, I was already feeling a little sluggish. And when I saw the literal breathtaking, heart palpitating view of Pike’s Peak, the altitude sickness began to creep in. We took a trolley ride around the park, and I was so tired I pretty much abandoned taking any more pictures.
Once we returned to our room, I got ready for the evening. I dressed up, grabbed my journal and purse and headed over to the castle. When I got to the little bridge by the castle, I was fervently praying, “don’t faint, don’t faint”. I sluggishly walked to the foyer of the castle and sat down.
“Oh, it’s upstairs in the Great Room…” the kind greeter announced. I perused the multi-tiered staircase and said, “Uh, no, I don’t think so.” “But there’s an elevator…” “Uhm, I don’t think I can make the event at all.” The kind greeter quickly got me some water, and one of the speakers’ husbands shared some kind words. I texted the front office, and they helped me back to my room.
I was so nervous, that I easily slipped into a decent panic attack. My sweet friend, very concerned, made me some Lemon Balm tea, and the nice fella that brought me back to the room, got me some bananas in hopes of raising my magnesium levels. My panic attack didn’t last too long, but it did leave a precedent for the next two days. In the midst of my panic attack, I was even thinking if we should just go home early.
My friend and sister in the Lord, Sandy, absolutely fell in love with Colorado Springs, Garden of the Gods and Glen Eyrie. She marveled at the exceptional hospitality and all the kind folks we met throughout our time. Sandy is a rock nut. She loves rocks of all shapes and sizes, colors and contours. The large boulders that dotted Glen Eyrie and Garden of the Gods as well as all the various rock formations we saw on the train ride thrilled her. I confess I was getting a little tired of the rocks especially because I didn’t see too many birds. But before I went to bed that panicky night, I put on Family Bible Reading Fellowship and the sublime Henderick Van Dyke spoke these words into my quivering heart:
“Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer.From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy.” Psalm 61:1-3
And I breathed while I prayed.
So the following morning, though still nervous, I shakily and buoyed by many prayers, decided to do the day step by step, meeting by meeting. My first step was breakfast. I got a ride to the castle and made it to breakfast and nibbled a bit. Can I get to the keynote address at 9? I drank a lot of water, and said, yes, I can do that.
I arrived in the Great Room (took the elevator) and found a back seat near the exit…anxious introvert strategy number one. The keynote speaker was the wife of the gentleman that encouraged me the night before.
Her first words, which I quickly wrote in my journal and will write on my white board: “You are afraid, you will get over it.”
Thank you, Lord. That first hour and her wonderful address flew by. Next step was the first session. I made it down to the Carriage House, and attended the morning session. Yay! So excited was I that I wanted to talk to the speaker, and he said, “Join me at lunch.” As we walked toward the long staircase back up to the castle where lunch was being served, I demurred, “Uhm, I think I’ll have lunch down here at the cafe.” Which I did and was refreshed and attended the afternoon session successfully. I made it to a book signing and the evening address as well, even though I was still nervous.
The next day was the same…step by step, breakfast, keynote, morning session, lunch and afternoon session. I did it, I made it. Thanks to God and many prayers by many people, especially Sandy. We ubered to Denver that afternoon and caught the morning Zephyr back to California. Phew! It wasn’t until about two hours out of Denver did I begin to feel normal again.
“You are afraid, you will get over it.” will be my mantra for this final lap of life. I am afraid of the future. My kids are grown and doing their own thing. I am alone. I am older and my health scares me. I want to go on my World Tour, but certainly don’t want to deal with altitude sickness again. So maybe I’ll modify my World Tour to the Sea Level Edition…or just My European Tour with a minor in Quick Cruise of Asia.
Even though I am afraid, I trust I will get over it. Not only because Lancia E. Smith said so, but because the Scriptures assure me – assure us – hundreds of times over, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”Isaiah 41:10
“Truly He is my Rock and my Salvation; He is my Fortress, I will not be shaken.”Psalm 62:6
Although I didn’t have the ideal writers’ conference experience like I imagined, I did have some good conversations and even met an author on the train home. And when I look back and remember the vast and breathtaking “rocky” beauty of Colorado, (now I know why they call them the Rockies), I will remember the Rock Who is higher than I, Who saved me and helped me not to be afraid.
Donna and Sandy
Glen Eyrie
“The wolf (lion from older trans.) also shall dwell with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, The calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze; their young ones shall lie down together; And the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play by the cobra’s hole, and the weaned child shall put his hand in the viper’s den. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all My holy mountain, For the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.”
The best 2023 Stories and Performances From the Shoe
Live from sunny Antioch, California is the 2023 From The Shoe Oscars. Twenty Twenty-Three was an exceptional year at the Shoe. Dramatic as well as comedic stories and performances abound. The industry here at the Shoe has undergone many changes and those changes are reflected in last year’s stories.
The Best Actress category is filled with spectacular and moving performances. The nominees for Best Actress are:
Donna Fentanes “Let Me Know”
Eleanor Fentanes “Bruh!”
Esperanza Fentanes “You Don’t Need to Know”
Eloisa Fentanes “A Friend From Work”
Evangelina Fentanes “Nevermind”
And the FTS Oscar goes to…Donna Fentanes for her patient, understated and restrained performance in “Let Me Know”. Congratulations, Donna!
Though the Best Actor category is a little sparse, it, nonetheless, comprises strong and impactful performances including a memorable performance by wunderkind, Peyton Carter. The nominees for Best Actor are:
Elias Fentanes “Mom, I’m a Full Grown Man”
Evaristo Fentanes “The Eighty Hour Work Week”
Peyton Carter “I Don’t Wanna…”
And the FTS Oscar goes to…Elias Fentanes for his consistent, strong and determined performance in “Mom, I’m a Full Grown Man”. Congratulations, Elias!
The nominees for Best Picture are:
“Almost Untethered” by Donna Fentanes. Critically acclaimed, “Almost Untethered” is about a former middle-aged woman’s emotional ups and downs as her children fly the emotional nest while still living with her physically.
“Working Girl” by Eleanor Fentanes. Underscoring the plight of Gen Z, “Working Girl” is about a young 20-ish woman who embarks on a 40 hour work week and experiences the emotional and physical ups and downs of working full time as well as enjoying the financial benefits of earning one’s own money.
“Cat Lady” by Esperanza Fentanes. Sympathetic with cat lovers, “Cat Lady” explores the emotional ups and downs of a 20-something young woman as she juggles work, school and her two cats who wreck havoc on her life.
“Travels with Mario & Luigi” by Elias Fentanes. Adrenaline junkies adored “Travels with Mario & Luigi” which is about a full grown man’s travels around the country going on various and sundry adventures with his friends.
“Driver’s License” by Eloisa Fentanes. Highlighting a teen’s rite of passage, “Driver’s License” is about a late teenager’s emotional ups and downs as she learns how to drive and experiences the freedom and financial impact of passing her driving test.
And the FTS Oscar goes to…Eleanor Fentanes for “Working Girl”. A young adult braves the treacherous trenches of the 40 hour work force. Her emotional ups and downs are brilliantly portrayed by Ms. Fentanes herself. Congratulations, Eleanor!
What a phenomenal year of stories! Twenty twenty-four is looking just as good as well with early entries such as: the election story “What is a Primary?”, adult dental decisions “Should I go Under?” and retirement worries such as “I Can’t Live Off of That”.
My youngest turns 20 today. So, that’s a wrap, right? Pretty much. All the days of finding shoes, making breakfast and driving to various and sundry places (SF Bayshore District at midnight, for one) comes quietly to an end, like the slow fade out at the end of a movie.
What was I thinking having ten kids…ten kids in seventeen years? Really! Not only do I blame my ex-husband (who wanted the decuplet), but also Frances Hodgson Burnett for writing about Dickon’s family in such a way that enticed me to dream of a small home overflowing with children, love, laughter, baking and animals. Alas, “the best laid plans of mice and men”…literature should have warning labels.
After the divorce, it was my primary motivation, responsibility and obsession to finish rearing this motley crew of characters – the main characters in my story – and provide as best I could a decent education, healthcare and some spiritual direction. To help them overcome the inevitable emotional hurdles they would face in the wake of a broken home, in the wake of a father who left and in the wake of a mother who stayed, but was herself very flawed.
One by one they graduated or flew the coop. One by one they found their footing and began to tread their path. One by one they no longer needed me. But I still needed them. I still needed to be needed. What was I to do now?
It wasn’t the fifteen years of inadequate sleep, nor the refereeing between squabbling siblings, nor even the hand ringing, tums popping nights as I waited up for them to come home, but it was when they declared their independence from me, that was the hard, painful pill to swallow. My characters were leaving the show. My show. Me.
Now, I know I was only a temporary guardian of these souls. I know that they were not going to remain with me forever. But I didn’t know it would go by so fast, nor did I know that the end would seem so abrupt and nor did I anticipate the emotional impact that would leave me feeling very ALONE. “And only I am left on stage to end the play.”
They’ve started their stories, their own shows as they should. They’ve taken center stage. I am just a supporting character. I remember being their age and what I wanted to do. That was all I thought about. I didn’t think about my parents and what emotional experience they may be having when their children grew up and moved out.
What WAS I thinking? Even though My Secret Garden dream didn’t come about as I’d hoped, I’m thankful for my ten kids. We had lots of laughter, a small home crammed with kids, puppies, chickens, friends, cats and hole-digging, fort-building and bread making. Yes, of course, there were dark times, obviously; but despite them, my children gave me so much joy. Now, they give me grandchildren….compound joy! I am very blessed. And I hope and pray that their childhood will serve them well. Kids, break a leg!
So, what am I thinking now? Ride (or write) away into the senescent sunset? No, I don’t think so. Lord willing, I think there may still be a second act left in me. Break a leg, Donna!
Just an update on my screenwriting endeavors. My friend, Nikki Hevesy, made a short film this past year. Earlier this spring, I began helping her with entries to various film festivals. I noticed some of these festivals had corresponding screenwriting contests.
The 168 Film Festival has a writing competition called the Write of Passage. It is a speed writing contest. Each year the competition has a theme upon which a Bible verse is based. The Bible verse is the prompt to a 7 day screenwriting contest. You have 7 days to complete a screenplay of 12 pages or less. What’s great about this competition is that you are assigned a mentor who guides, teaches and helps you perfect your script. Over the past ten years or so, I have entered, and subsequently, amassed a collection of about ten short screenplays.
So, as I was helping Nikki, I began to enter some of my short scripts in various contests. I got a very good response from quarterfinalist to finalist to … finally … today, a win.
The best I had done in the Write of Passage Contest was Finalist…so this is new territory. I hope this win and maybe future wins will open doors to a Shoelady Sequel….since my stint as a mom of ten kids is over, at least the child rearing.
In 2026, we will celebrate the 250th anniversary of the birth of our country. Let’s hope we make it. In 2017, Protestants celebrated the 500th anniversary of the Reformation. Around 2030, we will celebrate the 2000th anniversary of the ministry, death and resurrection of the Greatest Life that walked this “terrestrial ball”. The anniversary of His physical life and death is worth noting, and celebrating, because of Who He was and Who He is.
I am amazed when I think that Jesus Christ, Who Christians believe to be the Incarnate Creator God, physically walked this planet exactly two thousand years ago. The Son of God was walking around Incognito in Nazareth two thousand years ago today. Since the year of His birth is said to be by scholars about 6-4 BCE, then He’d be, in the flesh, twenty something.
There is no written record of what He was doing as a young adult. Before He began His public ministry, He most likely worked as a carpenter like His step-father, Joseph. An interesting, creative, simple, sweat-of-the-brow occupation, one that my family knows very well. Sweat-of-the-brow.. how ironic, that’s not something He should have been doing. That curse was reserved for Adam and his descendants. Yet, within ten years, He would bear more of Adam’s curse, He would bear his sins as well as the sins of all of his descendants. Today we remember that sacrifice, that gift, His Passion.
Today we remember the darkest day of human history, the day when Jesus Christ was murdered for political expedience, so it seemed. He was inconvenient, He was uncontrollable and He was very popular, definitely on Palm Sunday. Unfortunately, the voices, the sentiments, on Palm Sunday – “Blessed in He Who comes in the name of the Lord” – were replaced by the voices and sentiments on Good Friday – “Crucify Him!” Perhaps even by the same voices, how fickle is man!
Two thousand long years have passed since This Man walked the dirt roads of Galilee and Judea. Two thousand long years, His followers have tried to live out His last command, often imperfectly. Two thousand long years have passed while the Church awaits His return.
We are blessed by the sacrifice He made that Good Friday almost two thousand years ago. Our sins have been paid for, we have been redeemed, we have been forgiven of the very object that kept us separated from God, the Father.
God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. – 2 Corinthians 5:21
Therefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come. – 2 Corinthians 5:17
We are blessed by the new life He gave us through this sacrifice.
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. – 1 Peter 1:3-4
And we are finally blessed with a living hope, the confident hope of His return. A verse that is engraved in gold on the mausoleum that my grandfather built and where he and my grandmother rest – the Holy Cross Mausoleum in Colma, California – shouts, if you will, over all the gravestones at Holy Cross, some which include my parents and many other friends and relatives:
Looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ…- Titus 2:13
Our Savior is a living Savior, a living Friend and as Thomas solemnly declared after putting his fingers upon the wounds on His hands and His side, “My Lord and My God.” Today as we remember His great gift to us, and on Sunday we will remember His resurrection. We will remember our Lord and our God is not dead. He is a living Savior poised to return to the earth He trod two thousand years ago. He will tread the earth again.
And in that day His feet will stand on the Mount of Olives, which faces Jerusalem on the east. And the Mount of Olives shall be split in two, From east to west, making a very large valley; half of the mountain shall move toward the north and half of it toward the south. – Zechariah 14:4
One day we shall behold Him, one day we shall see Him face to face. If you don’t know this Jesus, crack open a Bible and read the book of Luke or John and get to know this Incredible Person, this Person Who died for you nearly two thousand years ago and this Person Who will be your greatest Friend, your Savior and your Lord and your God.
“Blessed is He Who comes in the name of the Lord!”
FROM THE SHOE 