DEFINITION: A financial instrument issued by a bank or other institution allowing the named on the order to receive the amount of mony on the order on demand. One of the main benefits of a money order is that it is more trusted than a personal check, because it is prepaid.

With a partner, find an institution that sells money orders. Post the following information about that institution.

1. Name of instutution
2. Your source of information (phone call, internet link, etc.)
3. Cost of a money order
4. How often money orders are sold per week or month
5. When you might use a money order in your personal life.

DEFINITION: A check written by a financial institution on its own funds. It is then signed by a representative of the financial institution and made payable to a third party. A customers who purchases a cashier’s check pays for the full face value of the check and usually also pays a small premium for the service. These checks are secured by the funds of the issuer – usually a bank – and include the name of a payee (the entity to which the check is payable), and the name of the remitter (the entity that paid for the check).

Work with a partner. Find a financial institution that provides cashier’s checks. Post the following information.

1. Source of your information (website, phone call, etc.)
2. How often cashier’s checks are written on the average per week or month.
3. Cost of a cashier’s check

SORRY. NO DUPLICATE ANSWERS.

Ok, I had so much fun doing the Best 9 of ‘09 I figured why not do every other year in the Aughts (2000-2009) and then the best of those best! Best of the WHOLE decade! So I’ve done that. It got harder and harder as the years went back, especially considering I was pretty young in the year 2000. But I think I’ve come up with a pretty good list of my favorites (and least favorites!) from the past ten years. Again, maybe Avatar or some other such movie will blow my brains out all over the place before the end of 2009 and force me to amend my lists, but we’ll see. Ok, I’ll start with the shakiest years and move forward ending with my best 9 of the decade:

Worst of 2000:
Battlefield Earth

Best of 2000:
9- Battle Royale
8- O Brother, Where Art Thou?
7- Shadow of the Vampire
6- The Emperor’s New Groove
5- Memento
4- American Psycho
3- Gladiator
2- Requiem for a Dream
1- Best in Show

Worst of 2001:
Jurassic Park III, Monkeybone, Planet of the Apes

Best of 2001:
9- Amélie
8- Zoolander
7- Ocean’s Eleven
6- The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
5- Wet Hot American Summer
4- Shrek
3- Mulholland Drive
2- Monsters, Inc.
1- The Royal Tenenbaums

Worst of 2002:
Queen of the Damned, Signs

Best of 2002:
9- The Salton Sea
8- Solaris (2002)
7- Secretary
6- The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
5- The Bourne Identity
4- Punch-Drunk Love
3- 28 Days Later
2- City of God
1- Adaptation

Worst of 2003:
Cold Mountain, The Hulk, Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines

Best of 2003:
9- Lost in Translation
8- Bad Santa
7- 21 Grams
6- Kill Bill Vol. 1
5- The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
4- The Cooler
3- Coffee and Cigarettes
2- Swimming Pool
1- Finding Nemo

Worst of 2004:
Alexander, The Village

Best of 2004:
9- Undertow
8- Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
7- The Aviator
6- Kill Bill Vol. 2
5- Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
4- Primer
3- The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
2- Shaun of the Dead
1- The Incredibles

Worst of 2005:
The Jacket, The Devil’s Rejects, The Island

Best of 2005:
9- The Three Burials of Malquides Estrada
8- A History of Violence
7- Batman Begins
6- Oldboy
5- Capote
4- Grizzly Man
3- Paradise Now
2- Good Night, and Good Luck
1- Cache (Hidden)

Worst of 2006:
Ultraviolet, Thank You for Smoking, The Da Vinci Code, Superman Returns, The Wicker Man, The Black Dahlia

Best of 2006:
9- The Proposition
8- Inside Man
7- Stranger Than Fiction
6- Brick
5- Pan’s Labyrinth
4- Inland Empire
3- The Fountain
2- Casino Royale
1- Children of Men

Worst of 2007:
Transformers, Across the Universe

Best of 2007:
9- 3:10 to Yuma
8- The Bourne Ultimatum
7- The Darjeeling Limited
6- Michael Clayton
5- Superbad
4- Eastern Promises
3- The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
2- There Will Be Blood
1- No Country for Old Men

Worst of 2008 (and among some of the worst movies ever made):
The Happening, Wanted, Chapter 27, The Life Before Her Eyes, Choke, Repo! the Genetic Opera

Best of 2008:
9- The Fall
8- Iron Man
7- The Dark Knight
6- Young@Heart
5- Tell No One
4- The Wrestler
3- Slumdog Millionaire
2- WALL-E
1- Let the Right One In

I’ll post 2009 here again, just so your life is easier!

Worst of 2009:
The International, Watchmen, Adventureland, Surveillance, Public Enemies, Where the Wild Things Are

Best of 2009:
9- The Brothers Bloom
8- Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans
7- Inglourious Basterds
6- Zombieland
5- The Road
4- A Serious Man
3- Star Trek
2- Up
1- Moon

And here it is… the moment of truth…

My favorite 9 films of the Aughts!!!
9- Best in Show
8- Star Trek
7- WALL-E
6- Up
5- There Will Be Blood
4- Moon
3- Cache (Hidden)
2- Let the Right One In
1- No Country for Old Men

Well there you have it! My favorite and least favorite movies of the past ten years. Maybe not all technically the best movies ever made, but my favorite. Agree? Disagree? Think I’m crazy? Maybe I am. Why don’t you tell me about it, or better yet offer up your lists in the comments I’d love to hear them!!

December 17th, 2009 Chicago [IAN]

Link: Bankrate.com

Visit the Website bankrate.com. You will use this Website to compare the checking account rates for a city that no one else has chosen. Be sure to communicate with everyone else before you post your results.

This website shows both traditional and internet-based checking accounts. For this assignment you will be using a traditional account.

1. Select a product: Traditional
2. State: any
3. City: any
4. Select product: Non-interest Checking

Review the banks listed in your town and decide which one is best for you if you lived in that town. Please post the following information.

1. Name of Institution
2. APY (Annual Percentage Yield or how much your deposit earns)
3. Minimum Balance to Open an Account
4. Minimum Balance Kept to Avoid Fees
5. Monthly Fees
6. Non-sufficient funds  Fees (paid if overdrawn)
7. Automatic Teller Machine Charges if using an ATM not associated with the bank
8. Automatic Teller Machine Surcharges
9. Why you chose this bank over others listed.

DOWNLOAD: Blank Check

Download the Powerpoint presentation and create your own blank check. This Powerpoint has been redesigned to equal the dimensions of an actual check.

The following elements of a check must be included in your blank check. Other optional elements are color, font choices, and images.

1. Actual city or state number (ABA)
2. Actual bank’s individual number (ABA)
3. Federal Reserve Number (ABA)
4. Drawer
5. Drawer’s Signature (leave space)
6. Payee (leave space)
7. Written Date
8. Amount in Words (leave space)
9. Amount in Figures (leave space)
10. Drawee
11. Purse of Check (leave space)
12. Bank’s identification code for electronic sorting and routing
13. Drawer’s account number for electronic sorting
14. Drawer’s Signature (leave space)

Box awoke to the generic Midwestern tone of a TV meteorologist’s voice. The sound came from an eight-inch screen that was suspended above the foot of his bed by a monochromatic pole extending down from the ceiling. On screen, a woman in a revealing black top was pointing to a digital map of the continental United States.

“And down here you can see, if we zoom in a little bit, you can see the last remnants of that heavy snowfall that blanketed parts of Southern California yesterday blowing out into the Pacific…”

Box registered his confusion by lifting his left eyebrow.

“As far as the cause of all this bizarre weather we’re seeing, a panel of prominent scientists held a press conference this morning in Sweden, where they announced that the most likely cause is due to a fluctuation in the Earth’s rotational tilt. That’s why we saw the sun set so early in the afternoon yesterday and could also explain these other phenomena. Now we go to Chuck Stevens with tonight’s Monday Night Football Preview.”

A portly Thai nurse carrying a clipboard waddled into the room and she perked up when she saw the young patient awake.

“Oh! You’re up! How are you feeling…” she flipped through her chart, searching for a name… “Anthony! How are you feeling, Anthony?”

For a moment Box felt a surge of anger at hearing his Christian name, but it subsided. Being called Anthony didn’t seem so particularly bad anymore. So, he took stock of his situation. He was propped up in a stretcher bed covered in all-white linen and an IV needle was plugged into his forearm.

“Kinda hungry.”

“You don’t feel any pain?”

Anthony searched his extremities and seemed just fine.

“No, just kinda hungry.”

“Well that’s remarkable. You’re a lucky boy. You just sit tight and I’ll go see if I can’t find some lunch for you.”

An image of a lunch tray topped by strained peas and carrots came to mind and it brought a scowl to Anthony’s lips. “Nasty sh…” he started to curse when he saw a hulking, bespectacled black chaplain in the doorway.

“Hello, son. I’m Zacharia Juda John. How are you doing?”

“I’m aight I guess. But thinking about that hospital food is makin me wanna hurl.”

Zacharia chuckled as he made his way over to Anthony’s bed. His ash-colored hands were clutching a New King James version of the Bible.

“Ah yes, Dade County’s menu offers some rather vile fare, doesn’t it? When I was in here last year for my kidney stone I kept telling the to the nurses to bring me some real food. I kept shouting Man cannot live on Tapioca alone! So they finally brought me some Macdonalds.”

Anthony smirked.

“You know, you’re lucky to be alive, son. But when they brought you in your mama came and started praying harder and faster than I’ve ever seen anyone in my life. She has a very powerful faith.”

“For real? My moms came?”

“Well of course. Why wouldn’t she? You’re her son, right?”

“Yeah, but she kicked me out. I thought she wouldn’t wanna see me.”

“You know, I’m reminded of the story of the prodigal son. Do you know the story?”

“Yeah, I know it.”

“The prodigal son disobeyed and dishonored his father. He demanded his inheritance and went out and partied his robes off. In just a very short time, he wasted all that money on wine, women, and gambling and he was ruined. But when he returned home to his father, he was welcomed with open arms, and they even put on a feast in celebration, because his father was just so happy to see his son again.”

“Yeah, I know the story.”

“Well, then you know why your mama came in to pray all night for you. She loves you no matter what you’ve done. And it was the power of her prayer that brought you back from the darkness.”

Anthony nodded and took a deep breath.

“Alright. I’ve got to get to another patient. Is there anything I can do for you before I go?”

“The TV said that it snowed yesterday. That right?”

“Fourteen inches. If you can believe it. You wanna look out the window and see?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure you feel strong enough now?”

“It’s weird, like I know I got capped in the spine and everything, but I feel alright. Like nothing even happened at all.”

“Power of prayer. Come on now.”

Reverend Zacharia clasped Anthony’s hands and pulled him up. The strength of the pastor’s grip surprised Anthony at first, but then he felt comforted. As he was being lifted Anthony spotted a navy blue and gray U.S. Marines t-shirt sitting on the chair that was pulled up next to the bed. A sticky note was attached to it.

‘What’s that?”

“Oh. A nice young man named Sergeant Rodriguez came in earlier this morning and he left it for you. You know he’s the one who saved you, right? Found you lying out there in the park with your face down and he drove you to the emergency room, just in time. The note says ‘call me when you’re ready.’ That mean anything to you?”

Anthony nodded. When his feet touched the floor he had expected a shock of some sort; a shooting pain in his back, or an instantaneous migraine, but nothing happened except for a quick shiver because the tile felt cold against his bare feet. Reverend Zacharia pulled a sort of metallic coat hanger that was attached to the IV closer to them.

“Alright, son. You ready to walk?”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, just hang onto my arm if you need to.”

Gingerly, Anthony put one foot in front of the other in a deliberate procession that brought him out of the room. The Reverend pushed the IV machine and followed a pace behind. Outside in the hallway, an army of little nurses whisked back and forth, carrying syringes, gauze, and lunch trays to and from the rooms where patients slept or lied helplessly on their backs. As they passed the first open doorway on their right Anthony peaked in and spotted an elderly man curled into the fetal position on his bed; his mouth hung open and his cloudy gray eyes were wide open and gawking at the ceiling. Another tremble passed through Anthony and he looked away quickly.

Both sides of the hallway were equipped with handrails, but Anthony ignored them and soldiered on towards the windowpane located at the end of the hall. When they arrived Reverend Zacharia touched Anthony on the shoulder.

“Alright, you seem to be doing well, son. Think you can make it back to your bed on your own?

“No problem.”

“Okay. I’m going to leave you now, but before I go, I want you to remember one thing, and one thing only.”

“What’s that?”

“He is risen.”

With that, the pastor rubbed the stubble on Anthony’s head and they parted ways. Flakes of snow and a thin layer of ice were caked around the bottom of the window but it was still clear enough to see through. Anthony was on the 6th floor of the hospital, which granted an awe-inspiring view of the length of the valley. In the west the sun was already beginning to set behind the skyscrapers and high-rises downtown and it cast an immaculate yellow glow on their steel and glass facades.

Below on the street level, Anthony saw sidewalks, palm trees, and the roofs of cars and buildings covered in snow. The light was nearly unbearable so Anthony brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare.

As he surveyed the surreal scene, he remembered being shot in the back by the Shiek, he remembered the dreams that followed, he remembered the woman and her dog, he remembered the little white Goat. He remembered the Marine shirt and note left behind by Sergeant Rodriguez, and as the last brilliant rays of the sun dropped beneath the horizon, he remembered what he had to do.

What happened to me today, in COMIC FORM! ^^ Click it for a bigger image size.

Chapter 27

            “So you’re telling me that the girls were there all along?” Tess asked with her hands on both sides of her face and her mouth open in surprise.

            “Amazing isn’t it? I would write a book about all this, but I don’t think anyone would believe it!” I responded.

            “That means that all the stuff in the attic was true. They were really telepathically reaching you from New Mexico. Wow, wait’ll I tell Cindy . . . that’s okay isn’t it? To tell her?”

             “I’m sure that David’s family wouldn’t mind you telling Cindy, but they probably don’t want the whole story to be public knowledge. They went through a lot of negative publicity when the accident happened, and I don’t think they would enjoy being in the limelight again.”

            “I can understand that, I’ll tell Cindy that she has to keep it on the low-down. But won’t the fact that the girls are suddenly back from a premature watery grave bring up a few questions?”

            “Sure, that part will probably hit the front page, and there will be a lot of legal rigmarole to get through, but I don’t think they’ll want to add the paranormal to the mix.”

            “Gotcha. Do they think Joe’ll go to jail? Did they arrest him?”

            “We don’t know yet. He’s under Tribal jurisdiction, so they’re investigating. Our local Child Protective Services interviewed the girls and video taped their disclosures of abuse, so that pretty much protects them from future visitation with Joe. Grace filed divorce papers and there’s a restraining order in place. That’s about all they can do for now.”

            “Boy, they should lock him up and throw away the key! What a crummy thing to do. He just about pushed Grace over the edge . . . what if she’d done something horrible like committing suicide because she thought her kids were dead. It gives me goose bumps just thinkin’ about it!”

            “It was horrible alright – as it is, both Grace and girls will be in counseling for awhile. The girls have had nightmares every night since they’ve been home, and Grace is still very nervous.”

            “Poor David, I bet it’ll be a long time before Grace is ready to live alone with the girls. It kind’a cramps his bachelor style don’t it?”

            “It would, but Grace has decided to move her family in with Norma. The house is plenty big and Norma is ecstatic about the whole thing. I had dinner there last night with everyone, and they were all smiling so wide that they could hardly eat. The girls can’t wait to get back in school, so David is helping the family move their things in today. They don’t have much, so it shouldn’t take long. Norma was talking about taking Grace and the girls clothes shopping tomorrow and then the girls will start school on Monday.”

            “Sounds like a good solution. They’ll be living right next door to you, so you’ll get to see a lot of them – and David. Which reminds me,” she said with a mischievous smile, “you haven’t told me yet. Just how did that long, long road trip go, with just the two of you all alone?”

            “We weren’t alone coming back, and we were in a hurry on the way down there,” I answered laughing.

            “Quit nit-pickin’ and get to the point! You had to stop long enough to gas-up and use the john on the way South. Was there just talkin’? Or was there some physical play on the field?”

            “Tess, I swear! You have no sensitivity at all! Where’s the romance in your soul?” I asked with a chuckle.

            “Oh, it’s there alright hon. But words can only give a body so much comfort, then you just gotta move on to the huggin’ part! I know that you and David were made for each other, and I don’t want to see either of you lose any more of your lives bein’ alone or with the wrong partners. Just tell me that things are movin’ along and I’ll shut up.”

            “They’ve moving along alright,” I murmured with a sigh as I closed my eyes and remembered our goodnight kisses from last evening.

             “Yipee!” Tess reached across the table and gave me a big hug. “That’s what I wanted to hear! I can tell from the stars in your eyes that it won’t be long before the two of you make the arrangement permanent. Now if we can just find the right guy for me, we’ll have a happy ending!”

            “Hmmm . . . maybe we should add a subcommittee to the Support group, and have them concentrate on creating a dating service,” I mused.

            “Very funny! I gotta get back to work now, folks are startin’ to come in for lunch. Give David a kiss for me and tell him that I couldn’t be happier for his family. See you later,” she called as she bustled away.

            Annette’s little car was still in the driveway when I got back home and I could hear Paige barking as I headed up the walk. I opened the door and Paige just about knocked me down. “Okay girl, I’m happy to see you too,” I said as I scratched her behind the ears. I walked in calling, “Annette, I’m home.”

            “Hi there,” she said coming around the corner holding Suzette. “I was just getting ready to leave. Did you have a nice visit with Tess?”

             “Great. Where are you headed out to this morning?”

            “I’ve got a meeting with that new attorney in town – Nathan Barnes – have you met him?”

            “The name doesn’t sound familiar. Are you going to talk to him about the restraining order and Mike?”

            “No, that’s all taken care of, thank goodness. Nathan specializes in real estate and business law. He’s interested in being on the board of our new non-profit and I’m taking the rough draft of our business plan in for him to take a look.”

            I took a second look at Annette and was amazed at the change that had taken place in her appearance in such a short time. She was dressed in a light beige business suit with dark brown pumps and a handbag to match. Her hair was swept up and her make up was flawless. She was the perfect image of a young businesswoman, with the exception of the adorable toddler drooling on her shoulder.  “Are you going to be able to have a business meeting with Suzette along? You could leave her with me for awhile.”

            “No thanks, the reason that this job was perfect for me was that I wouldn’t need daycare for Suzette. Besides, I met with Nathan briefly yesterday, and he said that he adored her. Apparently she reminds him of his nephew that he misses very much since his parents moved to New York. He has blond curly hair and is really cute.”

            “His nephew?”

            “No, Nathan silly!” she said with a laugh.

            “Ohhh, I can see where this is going. It’s good to see you with a smile on your face. Have a good day. Bye-bye Suzette.”

            Suzette raised her little chubby hand and pumped it up and down enthusiastically as they headed out the door.

            I was scheduled to meet David for lunch at the wharf around noon, so I decided to take a few minutes to straighten up my bedroom. I let Paige out for some air, and then ran upstairs. I had been so busy this last week that my clothes were strewn all over the place.  Nana’s diary was still sitting on my bedside table. I picked it up and walked to my dresser. I opened a top drawer and took out a soft, wool scarf, then I wrapped the diary up carefully and headed out to the hall. I would need to get some professional advice later about preserving the precious book, but in the meantime it would probably be safest where I found it – in the trunk. Nana’s story had certainly helped me get my life back on track. Maybe I should think about buying a diary and starting a history of my own life. I could just imagine trying to record the happenings of the last couple of months, I thought.

            The attic looked less gloomy in the morning light, and I didn’t feel any trepidation as I crossed to the steamer trunk and opened it. I lowered my bundle and quietly closed the lid. One day soon I would spend some time up here and really clean things up. There was a lot of sorting to do between possible antiques and just plain junk! If I just washed the window and put in some brighter lighting it would go a long ways to making it more pleasant.

 I sat down on the school desk to think about all that had happened recently when I felt a pleasant breeze. I turned toward the window, but it wasn’t open. Then I thought I heard something. On no, I thought, not again! I was absolutely still as I strained to catch any little sound. There it was! Children’s voices . . . but they were happy this time. I relaxed and exhaled as I listened to their pleasant giggles that slowly built into full laughter, then subsided into content murmurs, then peaceful silence. The quiet breeze once more cooled my face, and then the air was still.

            The girls were home where they belonged and all was right with the world. I patted the top of the trunk and said, “Thank you for everything Nana,” then I crossed the room, turned off the light, and headed downstairs. It was just about time to meet David for lunch.

            “I just love crab, but I always eat too much,” I told David as I was folding my napkin.

            “I know what you mean, I always leave this restaurant feeling stuffed, but I’m not sure it’s just the crab. I think the bread and drawn butter has something to do with my expanding waistline! Do you feel like taking a walk before I go back to work?”

            “That sounds wonderful. Let’s walk the beach for a little while. I could use some fresh air. I want to tell you what happened in the attic this morning.”

            David stopped mid-stride and looked at me. “Is this something I want to hear? I’m still struggling with my last visit to your spooky attic!”

            We held hands and left the wharf area stepping down to the sand. The tide was out and the seagulls were busy picking up tasty morsels from the exposed tide-pools. I ran over to one of the puddles of salt-water to check it out.

            “Come look David!” I called. There’s a red starfish here, and a beautiful sea anemone.”  I put my finger down on the anemone and it immediately curled its tentacles around what it perceived to be a dangerous invasive object. Either that or it thought I was lunch! I chuckled. “It tickles!”

            David put his arm around me and looked over my shoulder. “So are you going to tell me?” he asked.

            “Let’s sit on these rocks over here,” I said as I jumped up on a sun-warmed rock. “You don’t need to worry – it wasn’t anything bad,” I said.

            He settled down beside me. “Okay, I’m prepared. Go ahead and traumatize me.”

            “Oh honestly David, a few little ghosts and you get all jittery on me. It wasn’t scary at all. I just took Nana’s diary up there to put it away, and I could hear the girl’s voices again, but this time they were all happy and contented – laughing and giggling. It was nice,” I said as I reached over and kissed him on the cheek. “Kind of like this. Nice.”

            “Mmm, I like nice,” he said as he returned the kiss. I leaned my head on his shoulder and we looked out toward seal rock.

            “I can’t believe so much has happened in so short a time,” I sighed. “It wasn’t very long ago that I couldn’t see anything positive for my future, and here I am just purring with contentment.”

            “I agree one hundred percent. Things had gotten so difficult that I almost hated to get up in the morning, and then this gorgeous girl with snapping black eyes blows into my life and totally turns my family up-side-down!”

            “That’s me alright, always stirring the pot!” I said giving him a big hug.

            “Seriously Linden,” David murmured as he turned my face to his. “You’ve changed my life, and I never want to be without you. I know it’s too early to ask, but someday when you feel ready, I hope that you’ll consider allowing me the honor of asking for your hand in marriage. I love you.”

            I didn’t answer at first, but just looked into David’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity. I found there what I had been looking for my whole life. This gentle man had brought comfort, compassion and strength into my life, and I wanted to be with him for eternity.

            “You don’t need to wait David. I love you too and I can’t imagine life without you.”

            David reached for my hand and kissed my fingers. We jumped off the rock and ran down the beach, playing in and out of the surf and laughing for pure joy. The quiet chortle of a baby girl’s laughter echoed in the rocks surrounding the cove, anointing the final balm to a broken heart . . . now healed.

For the next few days I was down again, deeper even than before.

I realised that there was going to be no easy way to fill that gap. And neither should there be.

Because what I needed was so much more than one girl agreeing to go out with me. It hurt, a lot. But that’s just the way it was going to be.

I couldn’t expect to make progress with my love life, if there were going to be one, without making mistakes or getting bruised along the way.

The pain I’d suffer – it’d always be tied up with the pain before, but it never would be as bad as that first time.

Looking back now, I’ve no regrets. Because I had to start somewhere, and where better to begin?

The following week, I went out with a girl from the office. Someone I had known for a long time and who was great fun to be with. We had a pleasant evening, I didn’t rush, and she told me, unprompted, that she’d been seeing someone for a good while now.

She liked him, very much, she said, but she didn’t want to commit, since she wasn’t certain whether she loved him. Do we ever know ? she asked me.

When you meet the right person, then yes, you’ll know, I said. I didn’t try to persuade her to move on. It wasn’t going to happen, and I didn’t ask.

I dropped her at her door, and without any warning she kissed me, affectionately, not passionately, and I knew she’d seen what I’d been thinking, and she felt warm about it, even though she wasn’t free.

And as I drove home, maybe for the first time I started to be thankful for what Jenny and I had shared together, even if it had been taken away. Better that, than to waste your life in a loveless relationship, I thought.

It was a pity this girl wasn’t available, but that was up to her, and as for me – yes, there would be another future ahead.

It was a rocky start, but perhaps I was just beginning to have an inkling of what it was to be a man again, rather than a lonely widower.

There were possibilities, opportunities which I hadn’t seen before. But they were there all the same, and life had a lot left in store for me yet.

: : : : : : : : : :

But wait – Emma knew all about geology, and she worked in the same business – she spent her days in the office right next-door to Jenny.

So would she simply have made a fine replacement?

It’s a frightening idea, that one, but I never thought like that, not once, and even now, I know it’s just not true – Emma was very different from Jenny, in every other way.

But she was definitely an attractive, intelligent girl, and I hadn’t seen a girl in that way for such a very long time.

It was a big mistake – it must have been, because it didn’t work, but even now, I’ll still stand by what I did. For in that state, it’s how you are, and it’s what you do.

I could have waited, and maybe I should have done.

Waited for the right person, who wasn’t one of Jenny’s friends, and certainly for the decent time to come.

But just when might that have been? What better time than right then?

It’s a common thing for bereaved people to make mistakes like that – far more common than you’d ever think.

Perhaps they are mistakes, or perhaps they’re just important parts of what you have to learn. But it’s the vulnerability and isolation you feel which makes them harder lessons than any teenager has to face.

It really set me back a long way, that episode – and not only because Emma turned me down. She was lovely, but it wasn’t meant to be. I had two children, and I must have seemed ancient to her.

And anyway, skinny Welsh blondes, they just weren’t my type, or at least they hadn’t been so far.

No – it wasn’t just about me, and about my loss, lonely as I was for some female company then.

More than anything, I think, in seeing the kids bouncing on Emma’s knee, suddenly I’d seen something that maybe wasn’t lost for ever, after all, and something that we could get back once more.

: : : : : : : : : :

Then Emma surprised me by saying that she’d accepted a job abroad – she’d be leaving London in three weeks’ time.

Maybe that started a chain in my mind, since I’m sure otherwise I’d quietly have tried to see her again and get to know her better.

But now she was leaving soon, that wasn’t going to happen, and I thought, there’s just no time to waste. So I came straight out with it, just as she was leaving.

Look, I said, I know you’re going away, but I’ve enjoyed tonight, I really have, and I thought maybe one evening you’d like to come out with me.

Sometimes you can tell in an instant whether you’re going to succeed in something, and that was one of those times.

Unfortunately for me, I could read the surprise in Emma’s face, which seemed rapidly to turn into blind panic.

Obviously I’d imagined an opportunity which had never entered her head, not for one moment.

She said that she’d met someone new, and wanted to give the relationship a go. And so she didn’t think it was a good idea. It was a disappointment, if not exactly a surprise.

I said that I’d call again in a few days, just in case she’d changed her mind, but of course she hadn’t, and that call felt much harder, and my confidence was completely gone.

Looking back now, I can see what a shock I must have given poor Emma.

And several people I’ve told this story to have said that they were shocked as well, finding it harder to understand than nearly everything else I’ve told them.

And certainly you, too, whilst reading just now, you’ll have been thinking the same – “What on Earth was he doing? How could he think of such a thing, only two months after his wife had died?”

So what was I doing? But that’s the point – it didn’t feel strange or too soon for me to ask Emma out that evening.

Whether it was two months, or two years since Jenny’s death – the exact figure made no difference to me at all, not then. It might as well have been two lifetimes.

Life was short, I knew that now, and you’d got to grasp it with both hands.

: : : : : : : : : :

It was great to see Emma – she’d been so kind to Jenny and they’d been such good friends.

Jenny had always told me what Emma was up to, and who she was going out with. Perhaps I’d always been harmlessly interested to find out if she’d ever give up on that bastard Simon, or whoever, and find someone decent.

A pretty blonde, lithe, kind and fiercely intelligent – maybe I’d always thought she could do better for herself than she did.

And now that seemed such an interesting idea to someone in my position, someone who hadn’t looked at or even spent time with a woman without shadows looming, not for a very long time.

The children took to her instantly. That was great, since I’d been uncertain how they’d react.

But they loved her, straight away, and I can remember Emma bouncing first William and then Emily on her knee.

It was such a happy scene to watch and I shed a secret tear or two as I prepared the meal whilst they all played together.

Once the kids went off to bed, it was just the two of us. And we got on well that evening, we really did. It was probably fifteen years since I’d spent time like that as a single man. And it was fun.

Yes, we talked about Jenny, and Emma understood, and she said how  Jenny had helped her when she’d started work, and how much she missed her around the office, which were lovely things to say.

She told me about their office, about the people and the business, and I was able to catch up on all the news I had missed since Jenny was ill.

We talked about geology, too, and it was great to be able to talk on a technical level as I had done with Jenny.

We had a good evening, and it felt very different from times when I’d met girls in my youth.

Thank goodness it did, really, since I’d so often been nervous then, always saying the wrong things by trying too hard to impress.

But this conversation was much more relaxed, and I felt composed and confident, even at that time when I’d been feeling low for so long.

: : : : : : : : : :

May 13th-15th 1997
And I thought, if that’s going to happen, then I might as well make things happen myself.

If life is going to improve, only one person can arrange it, and that’s me. So I’d better keep my eyes open, and see who comes my way.

Then, out of the blue one day, Jenny’s friend Emma telephoned.

She was sorry she hadn’t called recently, she said, but she wondered how I was getting on, and how the children were. To my shame, I’ve already said how I’d caught myself noticing Emma when she visited whilst Jenny was ill.

That was hardly surprising, since doubtless the entire male population of southeast England had worked out what an attractive girl Emma was.

But now I found myself saying, look, Emma – why don’t you come and see for yourself one evening? You can meet the kids again, I said, and we’ll have some pasta.

She came round a few days later. I’d like to say now that it all came as a surprise to me, how I reacted that evening, but I’d be lying, I really would.

How many single guys, even recent widowers, would do things differently if they had a very pretty and intelligent girl coming to dinner?

Not many, I’m certain of that.

So as well as getting some food in, rather more than just pasta, I must say, I found myself buying new aftershave, too, and even deciding that I needed some new underpants as well.

I really didn’t have any plans to show them to Emma that evening, however briefly, I can assure you, but that purchase did mark a kind of watershed.

Suddenly I was thinking of myself as a man again.

For the first time, I was a single guy entertaining an attractive woman, and wearing those new briefs was a real part of trying to feel attractive myself.

: : : : : : : : : :

At one such party, a friend in her fifties who had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer showed her solidarity by sitting next to me at dinner.

It was incredibly brave, since in doing that she had to confront her own worst fears.

But what could I say to her? The obvious topic of conversation was her illness, and it was something that we were both thinking about. I thought her radiotherapy must be ending soon, and yet I couldn’t ask about it.

Ah yes, radiotherapy, that’s good, yes, and surgery, too – marvellous – the pity is only that they don’t always work.

No, it wasn’t a good line. So we contented ourselves with small talk all evening.

You always hear about widows being approached at parties like that – maybe it fits that old cliché of the merry widow.

One of my sister’s friends told me how shocked and repulsed she had been by the advances of her husband’s best friends after his death.

Yes, you poor thing, it must be very hard for you. But if you’re going short, just let me know and I’ll be pleased to come round to give you what you need.

Or else she was set up, finding herself next to eligible bachelors at the table. Wow, I’d said, only half joking – I doubt if a widower would be disappointed in the same way, and it might be fun to meet someone interesting or alluring.

But when it did happen, I did feel just as sullied as she’d said. No one had set me up, there were no spare ladies, just five couples and me. It was almost disappointing.

I sat down to dinner next to the hostess, a vivaciously funny brunette who had always been a live wire.

That way I’d be in the thick of the conversation, I thought. And I certainly was.

But then, halfway through the main course, I was momentarily startled to feel my knee nudged.

It must have been by accident, I thought.

But half an hour and another twenty nudges later, rising further and further towards my thigh, I wasn’t in doubt any more.

If there’s anything you need, any way I can help, any way at all, she said huskily, staring deeply and knowingly into my eyes and lightly, almost by chance perhaps, just happening to brush the inside of my leg.

It wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t at all exciting either, with her husband sitting opposite, mercifully oblivious to his wife’s practical offers of help to the needy.

He was a big guy, too – and he was a friend of mine.

Thank goodness someone called us all away from the table for coffee since I didn’t know what more to expect, except the certainty of being thumped.

: : : : : : : : : :

I’m sure everyone here will join me in sending all our best wishes to Amy Mickelson, wife of US Ryder Cup star Phil, as she undergoes surgery for breast cancer in Houston, Texas this week.

Phil is a favourite with golf fans around the world, and scarcely a round goes by without me wishing I had Phil by my side to play another breathtaking wedge shot out of trouble around the green.

Now the dangers lurking are of a different kind entirely. It’ll seem like an eternity since Amy was diagnosed in May, and with surgery on July 1st and the prospect of chemotherapy beyond, there’s a hard road ahead, for both of them.

I know that Darren Clarke, brave author of our foreword here, spoke with Phil at the US Open in Bethpage, New York, where ‘Lefty’ put in a movingly inspiring and heroic performance last week, in very nearly winning the old tin cup for Amy.

It’s shocking in the extreme to hear of yet another beautiful young woman starting out along such a difficult rollercoaster ride, with a fearful husband and innocent young children beside her. But the awful truth is that breast cancer doesn’t discriminate — it strikes all around the world, on every single day.

And finally, sadly, that’s really why we’re here.

Amy and Phil — we wish you and your family well. May you be amongst the lucky ones.

: : : : : : : : : :

Under tre dagar får vi följa John Lennons mördare, Mark David Chapman, innan han slutligen skjuter ner stjärnan utanför dennes bostad i New York. Den mentalt obalanserade Chapman kommer till New York för andra gången i hopp om att möta sin stora idol vars texter berör honom så mycket. Men något slår slint i och med att han läser en tidningsintervju och idoldyrkan förbyts istället till ett växande hat och han blir alltmer psykotisk och besatt av att mörda Lennon.

Jared Leto är skrämmande i rollen som Chapman och gör ett riktigt bra och otäckt personporträtt. Dessutom åt han upp sig rejält för att likna den riktige Chapman. Leto har sagt att han tinade litervis med Haagen Dazs-glass i mikron och sedan hällde över olivolja och sojasås för att svälla ännu mer.  Att däremot slänga in Lindsay Lohan som Lennonfan kändes mest fånigt och som ett desperat försök att locka fler till biograferna. Filmen är bra och man försöker ge en inblick i en störd ung mans hjärna. Man riktigt känner hur han sjunker allt djupare ner i sin psykos. Kan dock tycka att den är lite seg och Letos släpiga apatiska berättarröst bidrar definitivt till detta.

Betyg: 2

The strange thing was that those invitations didn’t go as I had expected.

I’d really looked forward to some company and conversation, after so long spent cooped up with my ironing and tears.

By now I could keep up the appearance of not being miserable for long enough to avoid embarrassing a gathering.

But going out on my own was daunting.

That wasn’t something I had done for years, and now I had to make so much more effort.

I couldn’t sit back and let Jenny do the talking, just chipping in when I felt like it. I had to be up with the conversation all the time, which took much more concentration, especially as my mind would wander off continually.

As it was bound to do.

And it felt very uncomfortable being the only single man at a party full of couples. I felt jealous of my friends then, and of their happy, unthreatened marriages. I shouldn’t have done, but I just couldn’t help it.

I’m sure it was strange for them as well, without Jenny, and the conversations were often awkward, too.

There were so many subjects which were simply best avoided – illness, children, parents, education, families, the health service, or pensions.

Or anything with death in it, like earthquakes, plane crashes, famines, or wars.

Those were pretty wide-ranging obstacles, and we couldn’t easily talk about the times we’d shared together with Jenny, either.

It didn’t leave us all that much to talk about.

: : : : : : : : : :

I just want to feel real love
In a life ever after
There’s a hole in my soul
You can see it in my face
It’s a real big place
– Robbie Williams 2002

May 10th, 1997
Even now, I’m still not sure how long is deemed to be a typical period of mourning, or grieving, or at what stage bereaved people are supposed to feel better. It takes a very long time, that much I do know.

The trouble was that none of my colleagues had the faintest idea. It seemed that after a couple of months nobody asked me how I was any more. That was strange, since I felt worse inside than I had done just a few weeks after Jenny’s death.

But as the major logistical problems of childcare and simply getting out each day had been more or less fixed, if not yet permanently solved, then perhaps I did give the appearance of gradually starting to make forward progress.

Short of staging an elaborate cracking-up exercise in front of the management meeting, or running past the coffee machine sobbing loudly, there wasn’t much I could do to make people see that things weren’t going well.

I’m sure that everyone simply wanted me to be recovering, not necessarily believing that I was ‘over it’, but hopeful that I was on an upward curve.

It didn’t feel like it, and often I felt angry that anyone could possibly think life was getting easier. It seemed bloody tough to me.

Self-pity again, but it didn’t seem unreasonable, not then.

At home, there was always so much to do, but little in the way of challenging variation beyond whether or not to press ‘repeat’ on the CD player or to select ‘fast coloureds’ on the washing machine.

At least dyeing all my shirts purple might have drawn some comment.

Maybe even my friends thought that life would be improving by now, and although they were wrong there, I did receive a few invitations around then.

That was a welcome development, since I had hardly left the house during the week — not for months. I had so often felt frustrated and isolated through  long evenings at home, with no chance to escape even for a walk.

I was away from the kids at work all day, and I knew I’d feel too guilty to leave them in the evening, just to enjoy myself.

But I did go out, eventually, and so I must have reconciled that somehow.

: : : : : : : : : :

Italy opened wide her arms to me this week, and beneath the summer lemon trees I found new words to write as well.

The Bay of Naples lay shimmering softly in the morning — just as Jenny and I had seen it. And I felt glad to be here, the blue skies of today banishing shadows of the past.

At breakfast, I met a young English couple. Neither smooching honeymooners nor doey-eyed new lovers — just a happy pair, relaxing in the sunshine. But they had something more to tell.

‘I love it here so much,’ she started. ‘Although — I’ve a ten-year old son at home,’ she blurted, ‘And I had to leave him with my parents to come away with Dave. It’s five years since I had a holiday.’

I remembered then just how hard it is for young lone parents to balance the responsibilities for their children. And how much effort it’s really worth if you can carve out some time to call your own.

For any lone parent, there’s no higher goal than to give your kids the very best of everything. And yet, perhaps sometimes you can devote yourself as parent and home organiser and breadwinner, and subsume yourself so deep that you neglect the spirit and soul that lie beneath.

In the loneliness and emotional desolation of long extended grief, there are a host of adjustments to make.

For all its rewards aplenty, sometimes you can feel trapped in the life which bereavement and lone parenthood has left you. I’ll make no denials that it’s difficult even to exist — hard beyond belief at times.
I lived that life, remember.

Yet within that struggle, there is a noble kind of self-sacrifice which follows on from duty. When the horizon still lies dark and far too distant, there’s a natural temptation to throw yourself deeply into childcare. It might be all you have to cling to.

Because if you try hard enough, you might forget the real person within you, with needs and a mind — and a personality inside.

Despite the joys of parenthood, it’s hard to do it all alone. It’s exhausting and relentless. The daily demands of life will take a toll on our emotions. And so we bury our heads in the warming sands of childcare, and shut down our bleeding hearts.

The eyes of the petite and quiet young lady beside me suddenly lit up. ‘I cried like a baby when I dropped my son off with my parents, she said. ‘And now I feel so guilty. Because I haven’t missed him since.’

Her eyes flashed then with a determined kind of smile. ‘This trip’s been great,’ she said. ‘Because I’d almost forgotten what it’s like,’ she added, ‘…To be a person of my own.’

Her partner stood and looked back at me now, just a little daunted. He’d taken his calm new girlfriend away for a week of easy relaxation — and she’d found this strange epiphany. How puzzling.

But I knew exactly what she meant. She’d struggled alone for far too long, before rediscovering just a little of how it feels to be alive.

I waved goodbye to them this morning, both smiling in the sun. She’d return joyful to her son, I knew — all the wiser as a mother for finding a little of the person who had hidden herself away.

Her friend looked more reflective. He’d surely seen light glinting far beneath the surface, and now it shone brightly from her eyes.

If they were really to return next month, as she had asked him, he’d have some serious saving up to do. And I think that in a moment, she’d convinced him to begin.

: : : : : : : : : :

Na altura em que saíu, não tive oportunidade para ver o filme… Vi-o hoje, em DVD.

Um filme bom, com grande interpretação de Jared Leto.

Fonte:

IMDB

Chapter27

“What really knocks me out is a book that, when you’re all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn’t happen much, though.”

-from chapter 3 of Catcher In The Rye.

I’ll resume howling at the moon tomorrow probably, but today I just wanted to share a chuckle with you not only that someone is attempting a “sequel” to J. D. Salinger’s Catcher In The Rye, but that Salinger himself is coming out of his intense decades long seclusion to try and fight it.

Here’s the description of the sequel from Gawker:

60 Years Later, by a mysterious guy living in Sweden (!) named John David California, imagines Holden Caufield as a 76-year-old escapee from a retirement home wandering the streets of New York City. Salinger’s lawyers argue that “the sequel is not a parody and it does not comment upon or criticise the original. It is a ripoff pure and simple.”

Wow. That sounds like a very special kind of bad. Way to go, John David California. Also, your nom de plume is a bad “homage” to Jerome David, but also sounds like the lamest porn name ever. But it leaves me amazed, thinking about it, that someone hasn’t crossed that uncrossable line and bastardized a movie version of the classic book. I guess I’m pleased that some things are still sacred?

I thought I saw a man brought to life
He was warm
He came around like he was dignified
He showed me what it was to cry
– Natalie Imbruglia 1997

Here’s a song about new relationships. It’s from that year, and it was written all for me. At least, it felt that way, back then.

Torn was a song I heard everywhere in 1997, and it’s often on the radio today.

A sweeping strum of acoustic guitar pulls tight the strings of Natalie Imbruglia’s heart, as she describes a relationship with a man who can’t leave his past behind.

It’s such a perceptive song — and the questions it poses are probing and astute.

Can you emerge from the ashes of a lost relationship to find love again? And if you can’t, is it fair to even try?

Amidst the depths of grief, tomorrow can seem an eternity away, and yet you’ll think about the future all the time.

How can life start again, and what will it look like, when you do? Because everything looks different now.

There are too many decisions to be made and a lake full of tears to shed. In the early days of shock, it’s hard for widows to think of new relationships. For other people around you, that thought is likely harder still.

And yet, the truth is that confused emotions do see widows (and widowers) seeking comfort on each and every day.

To the dismay of all those who have no understanding, sometimes the bereaved will find solace in willing but unlikely arms within just a few days of their loss.

You’ll find that horrifying, perhaps, but unless and until it happens to you, who are you to judge?

I can’t recommend that path, but I won’t condemn it either.

Most of the bereaved will wait a little longer. Still more will suffer yearning and endure the loss of physical contact resolutely and miserably alone.

Lengthy solitude may follow from reasoned decisions or sheer uncertainty and guilt.

And with children, a home and work to organise, lack of time can cramp a social life as well.

But whenever it happens, after a week (how shocking!), a month, a year or even a decade — one day a moment will arise when a chance for new love will beckon.

And however long we’ve waited, that moment is never easy. It’s hard to edge fearfully towards the future whilst cloaking ourselves in the misery of the past. When the day arrives, the realities of a new relationship might well be more complicated than we had hoped.

Perhaps they’re bound to be, when you’re still dealing with your grief.

And more than that, bereavement leaves you vulnerable, for a long time, and that can leave you struggling to make wise decisions.

Yet the urge to move forwards grows and grows, and for all the tears and sorrow which fill out every day, that desire, that longing — is not lightly underestimated.

So one day, we press on. We’d so dearly love to recapture just a small part of the missing warmth we’ve lost. But when we reach out again, will new love be the panacea we’re really looking for? And realistically, can it ever truly be?

Who knows? Not me, for sure. There’s no easy way I know to untear the perfect sky.

I can’t tell you how to chase illusion and turn it into something real. But one day, you’ll get there.

Until then, this song expresses the pain, the guilt, uncertainty and sheer confusion of moving on as well as a writer ever can.

I’m all out of faith, this is how I feel
I’m cold and I’m ashamed  — bound and broken on the floor

That’s exactly how it is. You’ll stumble sometimes, and maybe make mistakes. But there’s no way round them then.

Above all, you surely know by now that life is short and love is precious.

So if you falter, just pick yourself up again, and reach out to living with both hands.

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