Purple Golf Cart: The Misadventures of a Lesbian Grandma (31 page)

Apologize!

For supporting the homosexual witch hunts in higher education in the 1950s and 1960s;

For allowing the Florida Legislative Investigative Committee to harass, antagonize, and even destroy lives of students and faculty;

For creating and publishing The Purple Pamphlet which showed a young man tied in leather, and prepubescent naked boys in various poses, and men having sex with other men in bathrooms (how DID you get those photos?);

And for daring to declare that those photos depicted Florida's lesbian and gay citizens!

Shame on you! Apologize!

Apologize!

For creating anti-gay adoption laws in 1977 as you praised Anita Bryant’s hateful work in Miami in the name of God. There were no issues, no threats from lesbian and gay people. Why were those laws necessary?

Shame on you! Apologize!

Apologize!

For allowing Tom Bush of Ft. Lauderdale to call Florida’s lesbian and gay citizens despicable names when he was on the national Phil Donahue Show;

For creating a law in 1981 that threatened Florida’s colleges and universities with the loss of state funding if they supported lesbian and gay students.

And for allowing that hateful law to pass.

Shame on you! Apologize!

Apologize!

For never including sexual orientation in the state’s non-discrimination laws.

For continuing to discriminate against an entire population of people, of taxpayers, who are Floridians, and who simply wish to live in safety and in freedom, just like you.

Shame on you! Apologize!

Apologize!

Leave the old boys and the embarrassing old ways where they belong, in the past and long forgotten!

Have the guts to say the words and create new laws of inclusion!

It’s time to stop being the most repressive state in the nation.

Your lesbian and gay and bisexual and transgender citizens and our families and friends and young people just coming out—perhaps some of your own children—deserve your loving attention.

Apologize!

Make amends!

Move into the 21
^st
century with the light of freedom for all of your citizens in the Sunshine State.

Do it now!

Apologize!

41. TEAM SHERRY Takes the Walk for Hope

__________________________________________________________________

2008

U.S. President
: George Bush

Best film
: Slumdog Millionaire; The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Milk, The Reader

Best actors
: Sean Penn, Kate Winslet

Best TV shows
: Lipstick Jungle; The Rachel Maddow Show; The Mentalist; SNL Thursday Night Live

Best songs
: I Kissed a Girl, 4 Minutes, So What, Just Dance, Piece of Me, Touch My Body, Feedback, All Summer Long, No One

Civics
: California Supreme Court ruled in favor of same sex marriage but voters passed Proposition 8 to ban same sex marriage

Popular Culture
: Same sex marriage legal in California from June to November; New York recognizes same sex marriages from other states; Connecticut approves same sex marriage

Deaths
: George Carlin, Bo Diddley, Bobby Fischer, Estelle Getty, Isaac Hayes, Heath Ledger, Bernie Mac, Mildred Loving, Paul Newman, Suzanne Pleshette, Tim Russert, Lawrence King, Del Martin, Eartha Kitt

__________________________________________________________________

Breast cancer. Chemotherapy. Bald. Surgery. Radiation. Reconstruction. Words she rarely spoke, and never in relation to herself or in the context of her family. And now these words were hers, in daily doses. My sister Sherry. Sherry’s words. “Sher doesn’t have cancer. We have cancer,” said Barry, Sherry’s husband. Barry’s words.

~~~~~~

The three sisters—Sherry, Bebe, and I—had mammograms in July of 2008. For Bebe and me, it was our annual check-ups. Results not good. We both needed biopsies and I needed a surgical excision. Thank God, both Bebe and I were negative. Sherry had her annual mammogram the previous January. It was clean then, but now, six months later, she was experiencing some pain in her right breast that wasn’t going away. “Well, at least it’s not cancer,” Bebe and I smartly stated because we’d always heard that breast cancer doesn’t hurt.

“Ron, I have breast cancer.” What? Did I hear her correctly? We were on the phone. I was vacationing in Florida when she got her results.

“Sher, what did you just say?” I was holding my breath. She can’t have breast or any other kind of cancer. She’s the one who didn’t have an ounce of body fat, who worked out nearly every day of her life, who lived an exceedingly healthy lifestyle and always ate the right foods in just the right amounts.

“I had some tissue and lymph nodes removed, Ron. It’s cancer. Stage 3. I start chemo next week.” I heard her voice as it shook, thinking that her body was probably shaking, too, just as mine was, as she felt the surrealness of it all. I kept thinking what in hell does one have to do to prevent this crap??? If Sher can get it, anyone can. This just sucks. Any stupid thought to avoid the fear, the unthinkable. Please, God, not another loss.

It’s not like there hasn’t been cancer in our family. Mom’s mother, my grandma Frances, had non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma; Dad’s father, a life long unfiltered-cigarette smoker, had lung cancer; Dad’s sister, Aunt Rita, is a breast cancer survivor (She once told me that the good thing about her bilateral mastectomy was that it dramatically improved her golf game!); Dad had kidney cancer years ago; I’m a melanoma survivor; and most of us in the family have had basal cell carcinoma at one time or another. Yes, there’s cancer in our family, and yes, we’re all amazing survivors. But somehow, this felt different. More intense. More threatening.

Sherry is two years younger than I. Seven years separates the oldest (me) from the youngest (Bebe). Sherry and our brother Len are in-between. From the time we were born, we all have been one another’s best friends. (Okay, maybe not as little kids because I thought my younger sibs were inconveniences. I would have much preferred to be an only child, until I went away to college and realized I missed them like crazy.) Miles and time and age and life experiences didn’t separate us in our hearts. For the last decade, we sisters have lived within an hour of one another, spending time with each other as often as our busy schedules allowed. And we often visit Len and his family in Seattle. In fact, for the past 25 years, we’ve felt as close to Len’s wife Carole as to Len himself. Carole is sister #4.

Bebe and I agreed that we wanted, needed, to visit Sherry as often as possible during her chemo ordeal. We all needed each other. As soon as Sher began chemo, Bebe and I went to see her every ten days or so. Sisters Lunches, we called them, but sometimes they were breakfasts or brunches or whole-day events. On those days, the sadness and fear we felt always gave way to the love and friendship and connectedness we have as sisters. The gift of Sherry’s cancer was a deeper need and mightier love among the three of us. Bebe and I became Sherry’s support network.

If Bebe and I were the support, then Barry was Sher’s sustenance. Barry sat beside Sher as she underwent chemo every three weeks; he cooked for her, forced her to eat to keep her strength up. “I never knew about grocery shopping,” said Barry who turned his business over to their son Kenny so that he could stay home to care for Sherry. “Now I know the names of all the check-out people at Albertsons, and today I’m pretty angry because orange juice just went up thirty cents!” We laughed at his indignation but marveled at his desire and ability to care for his wife, our sister. When Sherry went into the hospital for her bilateral mastectomy, Barry stayed with her the entire time, sleeping and eating within feet of Sherry’s bed for all the days of her stay.

As Sherry began chemo, Bebe and I needed to feel some sense of control over Sher’s cancer. We searched for a breast cancer event of some sort into which we could put our collective energies. Bebe found the City of Hope’s Walk for Hope which took place that November, 2008, two days before Sherry’s last chemo. I contacted the Walk for Hope people and TEAM SHERRY was born! TEAM SHERRY served two purposes: one expected, one not. The expected purpose was to raise money in Sherry’s name for breast cancer research at the City of Hope. The unexpected purpose was that it gave Sherry a focus. She became very involved in the team and the fundraising. It took much of her time and concentration which was such a positive and exciting thing for her, despite her depleted energy and appetite, both zapped by the chemo.

The day of the Walk arrived. Our team was large: Sherry and Barry, their son Kenny, his wife Jodi and their son Merex; Kenny’s in-laws; our parents Sandy and Lois; sister Bebe; brother Len’s daughter Ellie who flew in from Seattle and arrived with my son Erik; Roz, Sherry’s best friend since they were 18, and her husband Jerry; the entire Otterman family, whoever they are, friends of Sherry’s I didn’t know; and my pal Regina and myself. TEAM SHERRY was present and accounted for! We had shirts and hats, white with pink TEAM SHERRY letters. Our pink silicon bracelets said TEAM SHERRY on one side and I LOVE SHERRY on the other. We looked damned fine and totally put together!

As the Walk began, I looked around. Thousands of people, each one there because someone in their life has or had breast cancer. I saw the beautiful shirts with women’s photos and words like “We will always remember” or “She’ll always be in our hearts.” I felt myself get so angry. NO! I screamed inside. NO! I will not be one of those people in one of those damned shirts! I almost hyperventilated! My stomach tightened. I couldn’t psychologically go there. Sherry was going to win. I knew it with all my heart. She had to! As I looked at this family that surrounded her, I saw the glow and the love on Sherry’s precious face. Through her, I realized all would be well, whatever the outcome.

The Walk meandered throughout the campus of the City of Hope. Our mother made signs for us to carry and we also had the TEAM SHERRY sign supplied by the Walk for Hope folks, so every time we passed a person with a microphone, we heard, “There’s TEAM SHERRY! Hi, TEAM SHERRY!” We hollered and cheered and gave ourselves permission to act completely silly. It was great fun.

The most wonderful thing about the Walk was seeing Sherry palpably feel the support and camaraderie of the many friends and family members who love her dearly. Sher sent an email to Bebe and me after the Walk.

Dear Ron and Be,

How do I thank you both for all that you've done???? Today was such an emotional day for me and Barry. Just knowing how you put it all together from the very beginning with such love fills my heart with more love for you both than ever, if that was even possible! From the Team Sherry website, to all the generous donations, to the Team Sherry bracelets and mostly to your support, encouragement and love, I feel so overwhelmed with love for you. Barry does, too. How do I thank you? Knowing I have two of the most incredible sisters ever has given me more strength than you will ever know. I want to spend many, many, many more years having our "sisters lunches"!!! You can't imagine how much I look forward to spending time with you. God blessed me with the two most amazing women for my sisters. I hope you both always know how very much I love you.

Sher

Sherry completed the chemo which did not get all the cancer, but the bilateral mastectomy did. Sher decided to undergo radiation treatments for good measure. The cancer is gone and our prayers were answered. The family remains right here for Sher, with Bebe and me leading the charge. Sherry models for us what is means to have grace under fire, tremendous courage, and true deep-down strength.

For all the things both positive and negative that I’ve experienced in my life, Sher’s fight with cancer put so much of it into perspective for me. Many of the challenges I’ve encountered over the years were merely inconveniences from which I was smart enough to learn some of the lessons offered. Sherry, my precious sister, I love you, and I walk with hope in my heart for you—and because of you—every moment of every day. Your battle with breast cancer was the challenge of a lifetime, and I feel so privileged to have taken that journey with you. I thank God for the outcome, and damn, girl, your hair is so cute!

42. The Purple Golf Cart

I sat in my purple golf cart, the one I bought for myself for my 60
^th
birthday. The first time I polished it, I felt like a sixteen year old boy with his new hot rod. As I shined and primped my best old-lady toy, a memory landed on the hot pink upholstery. It was a quick flash of a memory, or maybe a wish, of my grandmother Frances, in 1958, sitting in her own golf cart, though probably not purple, just months before she died.

I felt a lump rise in my throat as my eyes moistened. My heart got heavy as I envisioned my grandma doing exactly what I was doing now, polishing her golf cart and then polishing her golf game. I miss my grandma, even now, more than fifty years later. My grandma was the only one, I recall, who hugged me like she meant it with those long Florida-tanned arms wrapped around my eleven year old self. I knew without a doubt that I was my grandma’s beloved favorite, the first born of all the grandchildren, the special one, Grandma told me. I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck! She always sung that to me. She said I was splendid and smart and funny, and I believed her.