Death in 3 x 2

I've been feeling kind of sorry for myself the past week because I had two surgeries in six days. They were pretty minor, although the bunion and hammertoe fix yesterday, while not life-threatening, is life-limiting. It's painful and I have to depend on a husband who has a cold or, like Blanche DuBois, "the kindess of strangers." Neverthelss, I'm still alive and typing this blog entry, so that's a good thing.

My superstitious mother has always believed in the old "deaths run in threes" riddle. Whenever two people we knew would pass away within a couple of weeks of each other, my mom would always be waiting for the third person to die. She used to say she held this belief because, "I was Irish before I was Catholic," whatever that means (I'll have to google it).

This week we experienced a double dose of the "runs in three's" death spree. Mom's dear friend, Anne Nelson, mother of my friend, Gaye, whom I've written about in other postings, passed away suddenly on Saturday. Anne and Gaye are pictured above. Anne was the longest tenured employee of CBS and had just left her job at the network in January. How awful it must have been to leave a job with a beloved company you'd been with for 64 years. That's like a death.

Today I learned that two other friends from church, Sandy and John (not related), left the planet too. Sandy was an entrepreneur who started a company that made choclate mousse. John was a college professor. In the realm of the famous, we said good-bye to Ed McMahon, beautiful Farrah Fawcett, and now the King of Pop.

With so many people I knew personally or via their fame transitioning this week, I wonder if I'll remember exactly where I was when I heard about Michael Jackson's death today, as every news reporter is predicting we will. I do recall where I was when I heard about Elvis, John Lennon and Princess Diana. It shouldn't be too hard to remember today's news because I was sitting in Gary's recliner feeling a significant amount of self-pity. I've claimed the chair as my "camp site" for a few days while I have to keep my foot up. I'm eating, sleeping, watching TV and working in the recliner. I get five minutes once very two hours to get up and do whatever I need to do such as visit the loo (that's a "recliner rhyme"). I was away from camp for a bit too long earlier this evening. Feeling the foot pain right now just reminds me that I'm ALIVE.

More on my dear departed friends another day. For now, it's time to enjoy all the vintage footage of Michael Jackson in his "Thriller" heyday, before he became "Wacko Jacko." I loved his music. And I'm relishing photos of Farrah's beautiful smile and great layers of curly blonde hair. I loved her red bathing suit.

Life is good.