Month: February 2017

Posted on in history, opinion, politics

Bury My Heart at Standing Rock

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images from North Country Public Radio

When I heard the news, I cried.

After a year of peaceful protest, millions of supporters, veterans providing protection, celebrities raising awarenes, and Native Tribes from all over the world joining together to fight for clean water, the oil company won. The North Dakota Access Pipeline is being built as I write this and there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it.

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Image from Democracy Now

Does money always win?

When I saw the police rolling in on miliatary style troop carriers to surround the Oceti Sakowin camp, complete with riot gear and assault rifles, I cried. How many times in our history have Native People faced this exact situation?

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Image from Voice of America

All the People wanted was clean water. That’s it. They didn’t want to annex the land back to the reservation or build a casino or anything more than a guarantee that they and their grandchildren would have clean water to drink. Clean water. One of the basic requirements of survival.

And now there’s no guarantee they’ll have clean water next year.

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Image from Native News Online

I feel powerless, angry and sad. I sent money to help the Water Protectors buy supplies for winter and then more money to hire lawyers. Thousands of people did the same. But none of us have enough power or wealth to fight oil companies and protect clean water.

Then I saw this: https://twitter.com/the_orangeidiot/status/834590610644402177  This the final message from Raymond Kingfisher, leader of the Cheyenne People and of Oceti Sacowin Camp. With tears in his eyes and a voice filled with emotion, he led the final prayers and thanked everyone for their support. He also promised that the fight wasn’t over.

raymondkingfisher
Image from WhiteWolfPack.com

This powerful video recorded on the last day of the protest shook me. If these people can walk away peacefully and proclaim the battle isn’t over, then so can I. If they can face that stark grief but still have hope, then so can I.

I will fight for people with disabilities, for equality, for compassion, for freedom of the press and of speech. I will fight for healthcare and education. And yes, for clean water.

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Image from CNN

I will fight for the welfare of future generations, just as the tribes at Standing Rock did.

Here is another powerful report from the last days of  Oceti Sacowin Camp from Intercept, by Jihan Hafiz: https://theintercept.com/2017/02/25/video-a-closing-prayer-for-standing-rocks-oceti-sakowin/

And here is how you can help the battle:https://medium.com/@ShaunKing/please-support-these-5-standing-rock-legal-defense-funds-to-stop-the-dakota-access-pipeline-754be4674ec2#.b6nzwtxnh  (thank you Shaun King for putting this list together)

Posted on in acting, aging, life, Muses

To my first love, Richard Hatch

RICHARD HATCH

Richard Hatch died yesterday of pancreatic cancer. He was 71. Reading the news, I felt as if I’d lost my first, dearest love. In a way I had. I have loved Richard Hatch since I first saw him on Battlestar Galactica when I was 11 years old in 1978. From the moment I saw his smile and those hazel-green eyes I was madly in love, and I stayed in love for the rest of my life. I’m not sure why, but there was something about his voice and those cheekbones that made my heart beat wilder than anyone else on the planet, even Johnny Depp.

While other girls decorated their lockers in Middle School with pictures of Scott Baio and Leif Garrison, I plastered mine with a collage of Richard Hatch. Richard in his Battlestar costume. Richard playing the guitar. Richard looking serious with his dark hair in a center part. Richard in a scene from The Streets of San Francisco. I collected everything I could find about him and kept all the clippings in a secret scrap book. My infatuation didn’t end; even after I graduated high school and went to college, I worshipped Richard Hatch. When I was 20, a jealous boyfriend found my scrap book and burned it. That relationship died, but my love for Richard remained steadfast.

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One day when I was living in San Francisco in 1991, I saw an add for an acting workshop taught by non-other than Richard Hatch. I stole the flyer and called the number to sign up, spending the last of my grocery money that month to be in the same room with my first true love. Then I spent the next two weeks trying to decide what to wear.

At last the day came. Wearing a green sweater, a jean mini-skirt, black tights and my Doc Martin boots, I entered the room and instantly hated my outfit. There he was, Richard Hatch. He wore faded blue jeans and a light blue, button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled up, revealing his beautiful forearms. Oh god, don’t stare at his forearms! He smiled and nodded as I walked in and I quietly found a seat on one of the folding chairs at the front of the room. Why am I the first person in the room? Thankfully more people entered, but I wished I’d actually said something rather than just staring at my feet.

richard

There were about 20 students and the class began with a short introduction. Richard explained the class was about finding your own, inner strength and talent to make you a better actor. We all introduced ourselves and when it was my turn I thankfully remembered my own name and said I was studying drama at San Francisco State. After introductions we formed a circle for warm ups and spontaneity exercises. There were more getting-to-know-you exercises, including one that required us to say the first thing that came to mind about the person directly across from us.

Paralyzed, I mumbled responses, growing more frightened as time went by. I can’t move in front of Richard Hatch!  I might faint in front of Richard Hatch! Does he know? Does he understand how badly I want to have his children? Oh my god I want to touch him! No, don’t touch him! That would be creepy. Don’t be creepy. Don’t look at him. Oh no, he wants me to look at him. He’s asking me a question. 

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“Sorry?” I asked.

“This seems like a challenging exercise for you, Terena.”

Oh my god he said my name! Richard Hatch knows my name! “I’m just a little nervous.”

“It’s okay. Everyone feels nervous sometimes. So this is what I want you to do.” He moved into the center of the circle and gestured for me to join him. Slowly I moved and stood beside him. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he said “Close your eyes.”

Richard Hatch is touching me! I closed my eyes and he gently spun me three times. Then he let go and said, “Put out your arm and point. Keep your eyes closed.”I did what he said. I would have jumped out the window if he said to. After a moment he said, “Now, spin once on your own, stop, open your eyes and say the first thing that comes to mind about the person you’re pointing at. Don’t second guess yourself, just do it.”

Taking a deep breath, I spun around and then opened my eyes. I was pointing directly at him. Dropping my arm, I just stared at him in horror. A few people laughed and one person said, “Come on. You can do it.”

Richard smiled kindly. “What do you want to say?”

“I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven years old!” I said loudly.

There was a pause, then the entire room cheered.

Richard blushed and grinned. “Now that took guts,” he said. We both laughed and he gestured that I should rejoin the circle. The ice had broken. Finally relaxed, I enjoyed the rest of the class and learned quite a lot about improvisation and trusting my acting instincts.

However, after class I gave him one of the awful, passionate poems I wrote in high school about him. I wish I hadn’t. He probably thought I was the weirdest stalker he’d ever met. Oh well, at least he knew my name.

Goodbye Richard. You will always have my heart.

richard_hatch-older

Posted on in aging, birthdays, Uncategorized

50

Today is my 50th birthday.

Last night I tried staying up past midnight to watch my 40’s disappear, as if being awake for the event would make it more believable.  But I fell asleep and when I awoke a whole new decade of my life had begun. 50. Half way, or maybe more than half. Do I really want to live to see 100?

My daughter has been sick with pneumonia and had to be hospitalized. Rather than getting  a massage and a manicure as I’d planned this past week, I spent several days by her hospital bed. Nothing mattered to me outside that room. On Tuesday I forced myself to go to work because I had a deadline, but I left early and rushed back to sit with her in that little room. When she was well enough to go home, I began round the clock home care, which included waking up at 3 AM to administer a dose of antibiotics. I didn’t care about sleep; I just wanted my daughter well again.

And then came my birthday.

I hadn’t wanted a party; going to the March on Washington was my party. But sleep was necessary. So on this first night of my 50’s, I am in a hotel room just a mile from my house (just in case…) so I can sleep and write and sleep some more. I used to be able to manage on 4 hours of sleep a night for months. Now, I can’t get through a day on less than 6. I must be 50.

My 40’s kicked my butt! I feel beat up and worn out and then left in the sun too long. I feel year after year of stress in my bones. Will my 50’s be more of the same?

The odd thing is I feel excited about a new decade. It feels like a new book in a series. The old book is done and now I start a new adventure. I’ve never been this age before. And I feel such freedom and relief, because I don’t care so much what other’s think. I’m not worried about making people happy or wondering if I’m doing something wrong. Other people’s opinions matter less than ever, which makes me feel strong. I know what is right for me. I still struggle and have a lot to learn to be myself, but at least I finally know who that person is.

Plus, it’s raining on my birthday. It hasn’t rained on my birthday in many years. When I was a child it rained every year and then sometime in my 20’s I realized my birthday wasn’t in Winter anymore. But today, it is cold and gray and damp, just the way I like it.

Rain is a good sign, and my daughter is getting stronger. Now to sleep and dream and regain some strength. It’s a whole new decade to explore.

Good night.