This week time spun me around. I traveled back to South Jersey to work against Alzheimer's undignified rip across my mother's golden years.
In the two months since my last visit mom has slid into a foggy haze where daily tasks have to be "cued" and even the simplest of motor skills slip away. It's a path filled with an irony that repels disillusionment. Mother and child are reversed. Caregiver's work gets more demanding until the final day. Memories fuel my compassion - I struggle between empathy and fear.
I can't imagine Hollywood without the Academy Awards, but still, they bug me - just a little.
It must be my habitual romancing of Hollywood's past that makes me long to watch the annual elegant escapade under the soft tone of a 1950's broadcast in burnished black and white. I suspect the undeniably smug attitude of Hollywood's big night was barely received on grandma's gold-toned rabbit ears. Still, celebrities will be stars, and smug, or modest, it's an education to reflect on a star 48 years after the big night.
In 1962, George Chakiris' portrayal of Bernardo in West Side Story took the silver screen by storm, earning him an Academy Award. Forty-eight years later George talked to me about life lived under, next to, and out of the spotlight.