Estada de Casa de Pottersville

 

     As with the first two books in the Scott Carson series, last night I'd reuploaded a reformatted version of Hollywoodland, complete with a table of contents. Much thanks to reformatter extraordinaire, Kody Boye for his skills. Keep an eye out for the audiobook version, which ought to be out early next month. The audiobook for Tatterdemalion may be out even earlier than that.

     On the personal front, I visited Barb in the hospital last Friday. She had COVID, even though we got vaccinated June of 2021. But obviously, the one shot J&J vaccine wasn't enough so now I have to start looking to get us both boosted. Her mind was considerably clearer than the day I had to call the ambulance and swallowing is no longer difficult, as the COVID made that painful to do. Hopefully now, she'll eat regularly and gain back some weight. With a bit of luck, she'll be discharged tomorrow and I'll have her home again. Then it'll be day to day, as it always is.

     The day I visited her, I went home and wrote to a friend of mine to tell him about Barb's status. He'd been a good friend of ours for years and had provided material assistance to us of late. About an hour and a half later, I got a letter from his sister in Alabama informing me that he'd suddenly died last month of a heart attack.

     This is devastating to us on a variety of fronts. Number one, it seems the world of late has become some supremely indifferent, casually sadistic entity that blithely subtracts the people and things we need and love the most in this life. Just in the last year and a half, we've lost neighbors, family, other loved ones and I just nearly lost my own girlfriend to COVID. I won't mention his name, he always was a reticent, monkish sort.

     I sent him three of my books several years ago and he came right out and said he wouldn't read them because he didn't read fiction. But, as his sister reiterated, when those around him needed help, he was always there for them. Once, I asked him what it was about my blog that he found so appealing. To paraphrase him, he said it was because I told it like it is and that, at my place, he knew he'd always get the straight skinny.

     In its terseness, that was probably the most spot-on appraisal I'd ever received from a reader. From that day on, I hardly posted anything here without my wondering in the back of my mind, "What will he think of this?"

     But his support, which abruptly ended early last month without either of us knowing it, became crucial to our economic survival. Believe it or not, while we always deeply appreciated it, we never liked being objects of charity. Whenever I did a fundraising drive, which became dismal and depressing affairs in the end, I always did so with a feeling of shame and dread. I was mortally embarrassed for being so indigent at my age and was afraid someone would finally tell me to leave them alone. I felt bad taking his money but he freely offered it and I had a girlfriend, eventually an ailing girlfriend, to care for. Of course I accepted it. You can't take pride to the bank.

     However, unless something miraculous breaks, we're looking at going back to juggling bills and probably getting things shut off like phone, internet, gas and lights, Eviction now is always a possibility. With your help, especially from my late friend, we were always able to stay on top of the bills. No more.

     So your assistance would be greatly appreciated, to say the least. Because we're a little too old to be, literally, living in a van down by the river.