So my last post had to do with a funeral, and this one is no better. Kind of sad I come out of a hiatus on here to post about another death in my family, but while the last was the Queen's great-great aunt from Arkansas, this one was my maternal grandmother, who was also my last grandparent. The last death in my family occurred in 1993, so it's been quite a while, and this one obviously hit me a little harder. Right now, I'm basically disacknowledging it, but the Queen has noted that I look very tired lately and my back felt very tight. I may be keeping a lot in.
Strictly speaking, I don't show a lot of emotion. It's not necessarily a matter of choice. I just don't emote very much. I had an initial cry when I learned she died, and again when I told the princesses. The Queen had to finish telling them because I couldn't.
In her life, my grandmother had seven children, which leaves behind a legacy even now as most of the children had at least 2 children, and easily half of those had given her at least 2 grandchildren. I say at least because (for instance) my mother had three children, but of the three of us, I'm the only one with children, but I have three. My mother's older brother had two, and each of them have had two as well. The estimation is probably close given how variable life really is. Bottom line is that her service will be crowded.
For my part, thinking about her, I only knew tidbits of her life. The most prominent trait I remember is her attitude. She was very insistent on making sure things got done and mostly done her way. If she had an opinion, you knew it. Unfailingly. This created a little tension, as you can imagine, between her and several people, but as she got older, she mellowed considerably. She suffered the majority of her adult life from rheumatoid arthritis, but it never slowed her down. She had some special gadgets to help her do life on her own since her husband (my grandfather) died back in 1978. Hence, she spent her senior years without her partner, and yet, she was never really alone. Not with her considerable family around.
We saw her a couple times a year usually because she lived in Edmond, which is outside Oklahoma City in a house that could best be described as being reminiscent of a really, really long trailer home. Now, this was a permanent structure, but it amounted to a long hallway with rooms down on side of it. I believe there were four rooms in the main house, but when you crossed an area referred to as the "breezeway" (because it wasn't always walled in), there were two more rooms over the garage. The house was built from a reptile house that (I think) originated from the Oklahoma City Zoo back in the 60's. It was moved out there, given a foundation, built onto, and made a home for a growing family (I can't remember whether mom said her youngest twin sisters were born at the time).
She came around a few times since the Queen and I were married, including Ladybug's first birthday. The only times I'd seen her over the past few years were family reunions, but we could see her health deteriorating as she allowed herself to be taken about in a wheelchair. A part of my vacation was devoted to going to the assisted living center where she spent the last days of her life so the girls could see the woman they had in their prayers every night since I started praying nightly with them. While her body was frail, her mind was no less than it ever was. She still asked for things with the same authority of a woman who firmly raised seven children. She struggled with nothing when we were there.
Last Thursday, we heard that she had wheeled into her room and backed her wheelchair up to the desk in her room. She planned to walk across her room to her bed and lie down, but the next thing she said she remembered was waking up on the floor. She was rushed to the hospital where they found she had a broken femur, a bump on her head and a bruise on the brain. The doctor believed that her bones had grown so brittle, that as light as she'd become, her leg had broken under her own weight. They wanted to do surgery to set the leg so it could heal, but her heart was too erratic to do anything. She was going to stay in the hospital until she was stable enough to take care of the leg.
That evening, her doctor had a conversation with her and told her that she would be unable to return to the assisted living center because she no longer had the strength to take care of herself. "I know," she told him.
On Friday morning, at around 5am, her heart stopped. But she wasn't done yet because it started back up. She was advised at that time that in order to control her heart rate, they would need to put in a pacemaker. Firm and stubborn to the end, she told the doctor that she only wanted the pacemaker that God gave her, and wasn't interested in another one.
One of my cousins had recently given birth to her second child, and realizing the gravity of grandma going into the hospital the previous night, she prepared to go to Oklahoma City that morning so that her daughter could at least meet her grandmother for just a second. She stated on Facebook that she had just gotten out of Claremore (Northwest of Tulsa) when she got the call. She was too late.
Just before 9am, my grandmother's heart stopped again.
Carmelita Ruth (Shane) McCoy: October 8, 1929 - November 6, 2009
The dash between her dates was filled with life, love, and family. The church will be crowded.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Observations on a Trip
So yesterday, me, the Queen, and the princesses took a road trip to Arkansas to bid farewell to the Queen's great-great aunt. She was 93 and led a very full and happy life, by the sounds of what was said at the funeral. It made me wish I actually knew her. She sounded interesting.
We headed out of Tulsa on highway 412 at 6 in the morning and I noticed something rather amusing. Tulsa is the big city in my part of the state. The suburbs around it are mostly bedroom communities, though some, like Broken Arrow, have grown so large that they have a life of their own outside Tulsa. Well, the road ahead of us was completely clear at that time of the morning. Very few vehicles heading east. Now, the road coming into Tulsa was whole different story. We checked out the headlights on the other side of the road and there was a long, long line of them constantly rolling in. I guess a lot of people from outside of Tulsa come to the "big city" to find work. Granted, I work in Tulsa, but I also didn't pick my job either.
So we got to Arkansas, and there were more observations to be had. First, as you may know, Arkansas is the birthplace of Wal-Mart. It's based out of Bentonville, which we have driven through before. We passed a Neighborhood Market while in one of the town between here and our destination of Huntsville. Now, we have a neighborhood market in Broken Arrow, but it's referred to as a Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market. This particular store was called Neighborhood Market by Wal-Mart. It has the new orange firework looking symbol, so we're not sure if it's new or old branding it this way.
More amusing than that was two towns Arkansas has. One of them is Huntsville, which is where we were heading to (or Huntsvul, as it's pronounced there where people are "borned"). Not far from Huntsville is a town called Hindsville. Sure it's not spelled "Heinz," but to have two ketchup (or catsup, depending on your preference) cities so close together has made me wish that Worchestershire was closer than the UK. Now, the company that does Vlasic pickles is out of Fayetteville, so there's a good possibility of some condiment activity there.
What would be the most memorable thing for the princesses? Going a few miles on unpaved, country roads to the cemetery. Yeah, us city folk don't do country roads much.
We headed out of Tulsa on highway 412 at 6 in the morning and I noticed something rather amusing. Tulsa is the big city in my part of the state. The suburbs around it are mostly bedroom communities, though some, like Broken Arrow, have grown so large that they have a life of their own outside Tulsa. Well, the road ahead of us was completely clear at that time of the morning. Very few vehicles heading east. Now, the road coming into Tulsa was whole different story. We checked out the headlights on the other side of the road and there was a long, long line of them constantly rolling in. I guess a lot of people from outside of Tulsa come to the "big city" to find work. Granted, I work in Tulsa, but I also didn't pick my job either.
So we got to Arkansas, and there were more observations to be had. First, as you may know, Arkansas is the birthplace of Wal-Mart. It's based out of Bentonville, which we have driven through before. We passed a Neighborhood Market while in one of the town between here and our destination of Huntsville. Now, we have a neighborhood market in Broken Arrow, but it's referred to as a Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market. This particular store was called Neighborhood Market by Wal-Mart. It has the new orange firework looking symbol, so we're not sure if it's new or old branding it this way.
More amusing than that was two towns Arkansas has. One of them is Huntsville, which is where we were heading to (or Huntsvul, as it's pronounced there where people are "borned"). Not far from Huntsville is a town called Hindsville. Sure it's not spelled "Heinz," but to have two ketchup (or catsup, depending on your preference) cities so close together has made me wish that Worchestershire was closer than the UK. Now, the company that does Vlasic pickles is out of Fayetteville, so there's a good possibility of some condiment activity there.
What would be the most memorable thing for the princesses? Going a few miles on unpaved, country roads to the cemetery. Yeah, us city folk don't do country roads much.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Resentment
So one of the things this week on the whole 60-60 deal has to do with resentments. Now, I'm the first to say that I don't hold grudges, but as I pondered anything that I actually resent, I've found that a certain resentment (that I've already referenced) has been eating away at me for years. I started thinking about it in the present, but ending up tracing it back to even before I was married.
What is this resentment? I resent the blind rejections I've gotten from local theatres, who are only interested in pre-existing productions to get (and I was literally told this once) "butts in the seats." Never mind that I knew at the time that one production sold 20 seats. Yeah, 2-0. Twenty. So you're telling me that a locally written show wouldn't have enough draw to get more than 20 people in the theatre? Move on from that to query letters for musicals. No response or at least negative ones. Move on to query letters for screenplays. I've had two responses to read my scripts in the myriad of letters I've sent.
This is a sort of grudge that has been pent up for years upon years. It has affected most of my decisions as to what to do in regards to this career path of writing. It lead me to wanting to do it on my own. I mean, over ten years of denial leads you into crazy decisions. One might suggest that maybe I should consider just accepting my fate in the career I'm in that I only kind of like. I love writing, and honestly, I don't beat the dead horse of the same story over and over. No, I sent letters for a variety of things that I've written. These are things that other people (who don't have to like my stuff) have said is good or well-written. Basically, the resentment stems from my belief that I can't write a query letter to save my life, and if I could only get someone to read my actual scripts, they'd fare better.
That being said, I opted to consider it all from a more logical standpoint. People who read these letters are gatekeepers. Their job is to screen these ideas and find what they think will sell based solely on the words of the author. After all, a movie is a multi-million dollar business venture, and you can't risk that on a shaky idea. A musical is even more so, and even riskier since the actors are live and there every night. You can't dump money into something that is only a maybe. I have trouble writing query letters. But at the same time, these gatekeepers get hundreds of these daily. They probably have hundreds of scripts lined up to read on the weekends that did get past the query letter.
It's not a pretty system, but if I did have a production company, and I was accepting submissions, I would unfortunately have to say that I'd probably do it the same way. Give me your pitch, and I'll decide whether I want to spend time on the script. I once said that I'd give everyone a chance, but you know what? I couldn't. I'd want to, but it's just not feasible. And I'll bet some of these companies want to as well, which is why they opened their doors to unsolicited queries. They are forced to pass on the ones that MIGHT be good ideas for the ones that sound like they ARE good ideas. They know that some of those "mights" could be winners and that they're missing out, but what can they do?
Backing up further, community theatres have very limited budgets to play with, and taking a chance on something that no one has ever heard of is very, risky. They might lose their shirt on an established play, but they cna also point to awards the play has won and justify their selection. If they choose a total unknown and lose their shirt, they can't justify it very easily other than local flavor. And in all fairness, the show I was toting around back then WAS read by a community theatre group, and in equal fairness, they were right about its merit. It was hard to follow and hard to understand because I didn't write it very well. So, I have to admit that their rejection was completely justified.
Today, I have one that is actually better. My pride has this far prevented me from showing it to them or contacting them on it. Will they summarily reject it? You know, last week, I would have said "yes," followed up with some very snide remarks about them. Now? Well, now, I have to admit that I don't know. It's been 12 years since I talked to them. They've turned over since then, I'm sure, and who knows what they'll do? I do think that I'll continue my plan with this show to record it in its entirety as a concept recording. Then I might go to them and ask again if they'll have a look with this recording in tow. What's the worst they could do? Say no? Then where will I be? Right where I am, that's where.
So, I want to say that none of these people wronged me. It wasn't personal; it was business. I should not resent them for doing their jobs, and as such I forgive them. I forgive every rejection I've received since this resentment has made one part of me very, very bitter, and I need to let it go. So it's gone, and now I'll look forward with perhaps a shred of hope that not every query letter will turn out in failure. However, I'm listening to God for when they should be sent and where. I know I won't just release this immediately, but I know that admitting that it's there and wanting to be rid of it will step me in the right direction, and take me that much closer to peace in my life.
What is this resentment? I resent the blind rejections I've gotten from local theatres, who are only interested in pre-existing productions to get (and I was literally told this once) "butts in the seats." Never mind that I knew at the time that one production sold 20 seats. Yeah, 2-0. Twenty. So you're telling me that a locally written show wouldn't have enough draw to get more than 20 people in the theatre? Move on from that to query letters for musicals. No response or at least negative ones. Move on to query letters for screenplays. I've had two responses to read my scripts in the myriad of letters I've sent.
This is a sort of grudge that has been pent up for years upon years. It has affected most of my decisions as to what to do in regards to this career path of writing. It lead me to wanting to do it on my own. I mean, over ten years of denial leads you into crazy decisions. One might suggest that maybe I should consider just accepting my fate in the career I'm in that I only kind of like. I love writing, and honestly, I don't beat the dead horse of the same story over and over. No, I sent letters for a variety of things that I've written. These are things that other people (who don't have to like my stuff) have said is good or well-written. Basically, the resentment stems from my belief that I can't write a query letter to save my life, and if I could only get someone to read my actual scripts, they'd fare better.
That being said, I opted to consider it all from a more logical standpoint. People who read these letters are gatekeepers. Their job is to screen these ideas and find what they think will sell based solely on the words of the author. After all, a movie is a multi-million dollar business venture, and you can't risk that on a shaky idea. A musical is even more so, and even riskier since the actors are live and there every night. You can't dump money into something that is only a maybe. I have trouble writing query letters. But at the same time, these gatekeepers get hundreds of these daily. They probably have hundreds of scripts lined up to read on the weekends that did get past the query letter.
It's not a pretty system, but if I did have a production company, and I was accepting submissions, I would unfortunately have to say that I'd probably do it the same way. Give me your pitch, and I'll decide whether I want to spend time on the script. I once said that I'd give everyone a chance, but you know what? I couldn't. I'd want to, but it's just not feasible. And I'll bet some of these companies want to as well, which is why they opened their doors to unsolicited queries. They are forced to pass on the ones that MIGHT be good ideas for the ones that sound like they ARE good ideas. They know that some of those "mights" could be winners and that they're missing out, but what can they do?
Backing up further, community theatres have very limited budgets to play with, and taking a chance on something that no one has ever heard of is very, risky. They might lose their shirt on an established play, but they cna also point to awards the play has won and justify their selection. If they choose a total unknown and lose their shirt, they can't justify it very easily other than local flavor. And in all fairness, the show I was toting around back then WAS read by a community theatre group, and in equal fairness, they were right about its merit. It was hard to follow and hard to understand because I didn't write it very well. So, I have to admit that their rejection was completely justified.
Today, I have one that is actually better. My pride has this far prevented me from showing it to them or contacting them on it. Will they summarily reject it? You know, last week, I would have said "yes," followed up with some very snide remarks about them. Now? Well, now, I have to admit that I don't know. It's been 12 years since I talked to them. They've turned over since then, I'm sure, and who knows what they'll do? I do think that I'll continue my plan with this show to record it in its entirety as a concept recording. Then I might go to them and ask again if they'll have a look with this recording in tow. What's the worst they could do? Say no? Then where will I be? Right where I am, that's where.
So, I want to say that none of these people wronged me. It wasn't personal; it was business. I should not resent them for doing their jobs, and as such I forgive them. I forgive every rejection I've received since this resentment has made one part of me very, very bitter, and I need to let it go. So it's gone, and now I'll look forward with perhaps a shred of hope that not every query letter will turn out in failure. However, I'm listening to God for when they should be sent and where. I know I won't just release this immediately, but I know that admitting that it's there and wanting to be rid of it will step me in the right direction, and take me that much closer to peace in my life.
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