Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Berkeley - USC football at Cal
BERKELEY
USC FOOTBALL GME AT CAL
SAT IN THE RAIN FOR 4 HOURS. HAD ON SO MUCH STUFF I
COULDN’T MOVE OR SEE. GOT SOAKED ANYWAY, BUT WE WON.
GALOSHES OVER MY UGGHS. PLASTIC PANTS FALLING
DOWN, SO FUNNY. MY EYELASHES HELD UP.
USC FOOTBALL GME AT CAL
SAT IN THE RAIN FOR 4 HOURS. HAD ON SO MUCH STUFF I
COULDN’T MOVE OR SEE. GOT SOAKED ANYWAY, BUT WE WON.
GALOSHES OVER MY UGGHS. PLASTIC PANTS FALLING
DOWN, SO FUNNY. MY EYELASHES HELD UP.
Friday, November 4, 2011
ELAINE
10/31/11
Dear Warren and family,
Just wanted to take the time to let you know the deep respect I have for
Elaine, and what a profound positive effect she had on me and my
family.
When my son was a resident in Beit TShuvah. I was informed there were two
Requirements.
1. Attend Friday night Services
2. Attend the Monday night family meetings
It was at the family meeting that I met Elaine, a petit women with a soft voice,
who imparted pearls of wisdom!
The first thing she said was, “Whatever you have done as parents hasn’t worked, so
let us be the parents and you stay out if the way.” No phone calls, no money” Just show up at Friday night service’s, and, if your little darlings call and make requests; do nothing until we discuss it at next weeks meeting.” What great thoughtful advise.
Elaine had a following of “Old Timers” (parents, whose children had gone through the program,
gotten sober and stayed sober). Then there were the”Newcomers” (parents whose children just started the program or still had alcoholic children living with them).
With Elaine’s guidance, it is from these “Old-Timers” talking or yelling at the “
Newcomers that I learned the most. Here was a forum where all excuses and
denials were seen for what they were. It was very common for a parent to say,
“”But my child has ADD”, and Elaine would say, “They ALL have ADD”.
Or she would say, “Everyone has a dysfunctional family”. Elaine would lead with
humor, a simple question or short statement and always with a twinkle
In her eye.
Over the years, whenever I had friends with problem children, I
would drag them to Elaine’s meetings. What a powerful women.!!
Please accept my deepest sympathy on the loss of Elaine Breslow, a truly remarkable women
Most sincerely
,
Lois Feldman Bloom
Dear Warren and family,
Just wanted to take the time to let you know the deep respect I have for
Elaine, and what a profound positive effect she had on me and my
family.
When my son was a resident in Beit TShuvah. I was informed there were two
Requirements.
1. Attend Friday night Services
2. Attend the Monday night family meetings
It was at the family meeting that I met Elaine, a petit women with a soft voice,
who imparted pearls of wisdom!
The first thing she said was, “Whatever you have done as parents hasn’t worked, so
let us be the parents and you stay out if the way.” No phone calls, no money” Just show up at Friday night service’s, and, if your little darlings call and make requests; do nothing until we discuss it at next weeks meeting.” What great thoughtful advise.
Elaine had a following of “Old Timers” (parents, whose children had gone through the program,
gotten sober and stayed sober). Then there were the”Newcomers” (parents whose children just started the program or still had alcoholic children living with them).
With Elaine’s guidance, it is from these “Old-Timers” talking or yelling at the “
Newcomers that I learned the most. Here was a forum where all excuses and
denials were seen for what they were. It was very common for a parent to say,
“”But my child has ADD”, and Elaine would say, “They ALL have ADD”.
Or she would say, “Everyone has a dysfunctional family”. Elaine would lead with
humor, a simple question or short statement and always with a twinkle
In her eye.
Over the years, whenever I had friends with problem children, I
would drag them to Elaine’s meetings. What a powerful women.!!
Please accept my deepest sympathy on the loss of Elaine Breslow, a truly remarkable women
Most sincerely
,
Lois Feldman Bloom
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Memoir
How many times in the course of a Childs life. Do we open their bedroom door and check (either consciously or subconsciously) to see if they are breathing?
Sunday morning, December 21, 1997. I awaken at 8:30am and hear the TV on in my son Lee’s room next door – nothing unusual. I open the door – glance at him – reach in and turn off his TV.
I go back to my room and doze off. About 9:30am I call cousin Ken – my brothers son who lives in Laguna Beach. I confirm plans for brunch at noon with Ken and my sons Lee, Jeff and Todd.
About 10:00 am Lee’s phone rings once, then twice. At first I am amused because he always lets the phone ring twice even though he has the phone right next to him in bed. I know it is Lee’s dad calling to say good morning. As he does every Sunday.
Perhaps Lee is in the bathroom or kitchen and didn’t take his portable phone with him I’m thinking, as the phone is now ringing for the third and forth time.
I still do not let myself become alarmed. However, as I open the door, I see he is still in the same position he was in when I turned off his TV two and a half hours ago.
I walk towards – numb. I can see he is not alive anymore. I take a deep breath. I do not scream or cry. I pick up his phone and go and get my phone. I dial his father on one phone and 911 n the other.
I cannot react. I am beyond reacting to the horror of his life of total blindness, seizures, hepatitis C and Kidney failure. The medicine, operations; including two kidney transplants – one of which I was the donor – the needles - the tests – the constant fight to stay alive – to win the battle over and over again – until there was no more winning.
My poor son – his sweet disposition. Always with a smile on his face – always grateful. He called me his DONOR DOLL MOM every single time he talked to me from 1982 to 1997. All he wanted to do is live.
I felt deep sorrow and – yes – I felt enormous relief. No more suffering.
As my family and friends gathered around, my dear friend and his transplant doctor, Fred Kuyt, arrived, hugged me and said “ Lois, you don’t have to be brave anymore”.
How many times in the course of a Childs life. Do we open their bedroom door and check (either consciously or subconsciously) to see if they are breathing?
Sunday morning, December 21, 1997. I awaken at 8:30am and hear the TV on in my son Lee’s room next door – nothing unusual. I open the door – glance at him – reach in and turn off his TV.
I go back to my room and doze off. About 9:30am I call cousin Ken – my brothers son who lives in Laguna Beach. I confirm plans for brunch at noon with Ken and my sons Lee, Jeff and Todd.
About 10:00 am Lee’s phone rings once, then twice. At first I am amused because he always lets the phone ring twice even though he has the phone right next to him in bed. I know it is Lee’s dad calling to say good morning. As he does every Sunday.
Perhaps Lee is in the bathroom or kitchen and didn’t take his portable phone with him I’m thinking, as the phone is now ringing for the third and forth time.
I still do not let myself become alarmed. However, as I open the door, I see he is still in the same position he was in when I turned off his TV two and a half hours ago.
I walk towards – numb. I can see he is not alive anymore. I take a deep breath. I do not scream or cry. I pick up his phone and go and get my phone. I dial his father on one phone and 911 n the other.
I cannot react. I am beyond reacting to the horror of his life of total blindness, seizures, hepatitis C and Kidney failure. The medicine, operations; including two kidney transplants – one of which I was the donor – the needles - the tests – the constant fight to stay alive – to win the battle over and over again – until there was no more winning.
My poor son – his sweet disposition. Always with a smile on his face – always grateful. He called me his DONOR DOLL MOM every single time he talked to me from 1982 to 1997. All he wanted to do is live.
I felt deep sorrow and – yes – I felt enormous relief. No more suffering.
As my family and friends gathered around, my dear friend and his transplant doctor, Fred Kuyt, arrived, hugged me and said “ Lois, you don’t have to be brave anymore”.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Preface to memoir –
I never had all of him. He was my son and I never had al of him. When he was born the fill in obstetrician pulled him out with high forceps – which interrupted the connection between his eye and brain and , therefore, he never cold see – not his twin brother, his little brother, his father or me.
Those forceps also caused him to have a life threatening illness – which we learned about when he was 12 years old and which he succumbed to at age 34 – 11 years ago.
In spite of all this, my son, Lee Rubenstein always had a smile on his face. “And a Smile On His Face” is the title I have chosen for the book I am writing, which is a tribute to his courage.
He lived with me for the last year of his life, but prior to that he lived independently
For 6 years in his own apartment in north Berkeley, California. He walked, took the bus and Bart and many planes by himself. He was blind, had seizures, which disoriented him, and he was heavily medicated – but nothing deterred him from getting out and about.
The telephone was his lifeline to the world and he spent many hours talking to his various friends. When he was out of bed he usually carried his portable phone in his pocket.
He spent a good deal of time in bed - as he was on a lot of drugs. He use to tease and say he was going to start a legal drug fraternity.
When the phone rang – he always let it ring twice – so as not to give the impression of how much that call meant to him.
Every call – every simple [le kindness meant a great deal to him. He use to say to me – as he got on a plane to go back to Berkeley, “Mom, would you please call and leave me a TLC (tender loving care ) message.
The above is a preface to a memoir I wrote after taking a class, Art Of The Memoir, at UCLA. The memoir follows
I never had all of him. He was my son and I never had al of him. When he was born the fill in obstetrician pulled him out with high forceps – which interrupted the connection between his eye and brain and , therefore, he never cold see – not his twin brother, his little brother, his father or me.
Those forceps also caused him to have a life threatening illness – which we learned about when he was 12 years old and which he succumbed to at age 34 – 11 years ago.
In spite of all this, my son, Lee Rubenstein always had a smile on his face. “And a Smile On His Face” is the title I have chosen for the book I am writing, which is a tribute to his courage.
He lived with me for the last year of his life, but prior to that he lived independently
For 6 years in his own apartment in north Berkeley, California. He walked, took the bus and Bart and many planes by himself. He was blind, had seizures, which disoriented him, and he was heavily medicated – but nothing deterred him from getting out and about.
The telephone was his lifeline to the world and he spent many hours talking to his various friends. When he was out of bed he usually carried his portable phone in his pocket.
He spent a good deal of time in bed - as he was on a lot of drugs. He use to tease and say he was going to start a legal drug fraternity.
When the phone rang – he always let it ring twice – so as not to give the impression of how much that call meant to him.
Every call – every simple [le kindness meant a great deal to him. He use to say to me – as he got on a plane to go back to Berkeley, “Mom, would you please call and leave me a TLC (tender loving care ) message.
The above is a preface to a memoir I wrote after taking a class, Art Of The Memoir, at UCLA. The memoir follows
Saturday, October 3, 2009
ELEVATOR FACES
Elevator faces
My friend Suzie invited me to the Broad opening, the old Los Angeles
Museum of Contemporary Art has been re-vamped by Eli Broad and there were a series of galas and openings. She invited me on a night when our husbands were playing poker and I said,' sure.'
Driving there I asked her if she had seen the Grammy’s and this friend said no but that she loved Amy Winehouse. That she downloaded I tunes which gives you a free tune ever week and that two years ago she had fallen in love with Amy Winehouse’ song, “You Know I’m No Good”.…
Wow, I’m thinking, how cool is she…she’s one of the poker wives, who even though she is a bit younger, I considered older in hipness. Suzie is actually in love with the most radical performer at the whole grammys, so radical they wouldn’t let her back into the country because of her “on screen” heron taking; and the song and album that she won best of everything for and performed live from London, is called “Not Going To Rehab”.
So I’m saying to Suzie that my son Todd has given me a gift of a computer tutor for old people, someone with lots of patience and that first thing next lesson, I was going to ask him how I could download itunes.
Suzie also told me she had just gotten iphone and that she is in a learning curve of how to use it. But that she might be able to play me Amy Winehouse other song she had fallen in love with.
At this point we have arrived and are pulling into the Museum underground parking garage. We see emerging from their cars, various older people in black with sensible shoes and scarves. You know the type. Of course we are dressed the same way and we debate should we take our coats, shouldn’t we take our coats. She didn’t. I did and was sorry Suzie is so hip she wore navy blue instead of black.
So we’re walking from our car and Suzie is playing with her iphone, trying to get me the song. Just as we arrive at the elevator and it goes up leaving 15 of us waiting for the next one, ,Suzie punches up the song and hands it to me to listen to, Well you would have thought I was a black man with a boom box. Everyone is very silent with their elevator faces and I’m listening to this radical blaring with a great beat. Suzie sees the look of controlled horror on everyone’s faces and takes the phone from me and starts punching buttons and the thing won’t go off and shes punching and punching.
I said, Suzie we’re going to laugh about this for years.
The art at the museum and the museum is quite memorable. Lot of Andy Warhol and sculptures you walk thru and mazes and it’s laid out beautifully. Trying to give the impression of the Guggenheim in Bilbo where the museum itself is a work of art. However, the most memorable part for me is waiting for the elevator and listening to Amy Winehouse.
My friend Suzie invited me to the Broad opening, the old Los Angeles
Museum of Contemporary Art has been re-vamped by Eli Broad and there were a series of galas and openings. She invited me on a night when our husbands were playing poker and I said,' sure.'
Driving there I asked her if she had seen the Grammy’s and this friend said no but that she loved Amy Winehouse. That she downloaded I tunes which gives you a free tune ever week and that two years ago she had fallen in love with Amy Winehouse’ song, “You Know I’m No Good”.…
Wow, I’m thinking, how cool is she…she’s one of the poker wives, who even though she is a bit younger, I considered older in hipness. Suzie is actually in love with the most radical performer at the whole grammys, so radical they wouldn’t let her back into the country because of her “on screen” heron taking; and the song and album that she won best of everything for and performed live from London, is called “Not Going To Rehab”.
So I’m saying to Suzie that my son Todd has given me a gift of a computer tutor for old people, someone with lots of patience and that first thing next lesson, I was going to ask him how I could download itunes.
Suzie also told me she had just gotten iphone and that she is in a learning curve of how to use it. But that she might be able to play me Amy Winehouse other song she had fallen in love with.
At this point we have arrived and are pulling into the Museum underground parking garage. We see emerging from their cars, various older people in black with sensible shoes and scarves. You know the type. Of course we are dressed the same way and we debate should we take our coats, shouldn’t we take our coats. She didn’t. I did and was sorry Suzie is so hip she wore navy blue instead of black.
So we’re walking from our car and Suzie is playing with her iphone, trying to get me the song. Just as we arrive at the elevator and it goes up leaving 15 of us waiting for the next one, ,Suzie punches up the song and hands it to me to listen to, Well you would have thought I was a black man with a boom box. Everyone is very silent with their elevator faces and I’m listening to this radical blaring with a great beat. Suzie sees the look of controlled horror on everyone’s faces and takes the phone from me and starts punching buttons and the thing won’t go off and shes punching and punching.
I said, Suzie we’re going to laugh about this for years.
The art at the museum and the museum is quite memorable. Lot of Andy Warhol and sculptures you walk thru and mazes and it’s laid out beautifully. Trying to give the impression of the Guggenheim in Bilbo where the museum itself is a work of art. However, the most memorable part for me is waiting for the elevator and listening to Amy Winehouse.
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