"Hollywood Heartthrobs"

 

         Because of Netflix and TCM, I started a mental list of Hollywood Heartthrobs. These splendid actors, with their dashing good looks, draw me into their worlds for about two hours at a time. The other day, I realized that my list of favorites included debonair dudes  dating back to my parent's generation and went all the way to current gents with “bedroom eyes.”

         I began to wonder exactly what combination of traits made me hunger for one Hollywood hunk over another. When I considered my list critically, I realized that voices play a huge role in my criteria for sexy. Looks may come and go, wrinkles and sags eventually get the best of everyone, but voices—well, they stay wonderfully sensual throughout a lifetime.

         My admiration for many of my heartthrobs evolved as an appreciation of their ability to craft their art. The actor playing the same character year after year and film after film didn't make my list. I particularly enjoy watching a performance where I lose the actor within the character he portrays.

         I sat down today to generate an inventory of my Top Ten Heartthrobs, and surprised myself when I crossed several names off of my list. I know my sister will squeal in protest over the deletion of Sean Connery while several other friends will feel disbelief that I don’t have Robert Redford, Mel Gibson, or Richard Gere. Anyway. . . here’s the list:

Chapman’s Top Ten Heartthrobs (in no particular order):

1.       Gregory Peck                             6.  Jimmy Stewart

2.       Cary Grant                                  7.  Gene Kelly

3.      Johnny Depp                               8.  Keanu Reeves

4.      Harrison Ford                              9.  Tom Hanks

5.      Denzel Washington                    10. Orlando Bloom

My curiosity longs to know, who would be on your list? 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Lifetime Movies = Lifeline Movies"

 

            Being housebound a large portion of each day means finding ways to keep minds sharp, attentions attuned, and moods elevated. That’s hard when a person has limited mobility and high levels of fatigue. When Mom first moved in, she could still do a little exercising—mainly working with rubber bands for her arms and some leg lifts while sitting in her wheelchair. As the months slip by, we’ve resorted more and more to television for amusement. For me, it’s been a learning experience as I’ve never watched that much television. Even as a child, I’d rather lounge with book in hand, preferring to spend hours in the wanton luxury of the written word over watching a crime show or sitcom.

            Care-giving for my mother means long days rotating through various types of television entertainment. We may begin the morning with back-to-back episodes of a true classic like I Love Lucy. From there we may dally with the local and national news, or spend half-an-hour bemoaning the drought as we watch the Weather Channel. Mom loves detective and law shows, so the entire Law and Order franchise fills many hours. These shows, added to the news, leave us with plenty to talk about as the day unwinds. Throw in favorite shows we access through Netflix, and we manage to keep a wide of variety to our daily viewing.

            If we’ve managed to leave the house earlier in the week, Mom’s exhaustion by the end of the week extends beyond physical symptoms and into mental fatigue on her usual shows (except for her passion for Everybody Loves Raymond). By Thursday or Friday, nothing appeals to Mom except viewing Lifetime movies. Imagine my surprise to see many of my favorite actors in these movies! Also, I suspect many of the young actors refining their skills in these movies will make the leap to the “big screen” within a few years. We enjoy paying attention to script structure, soundtrack music, and the details behind the directing on these television movies. Sometimes we discuss the basic plot that unfolds before us, predicting possible outcomes and endings. Sometimes we compare an actor’s performance in this movie to the more familiar television character we’d viewed him or her in week after week. Sometimes we comment on the locations of the productions. Always, we find something to talk about by viewing these films.

            As Mom’s Huntington’s Disease progresses, she’s finding speech more and more difficult. Our discussions slip into her initiating with shorter comments and responding in phrases instead of full conversations. Although she eventually may not talk at all, her mind will still be as sharp as ever. My commentary may become more and more one-sided, but her interests will still be the same. At that time, I know that Lifetime movies will become our lifeline movies.

 Mom at age 62 hiking with Dad 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Plenty of Time”

 

            My days slipped into a routine without me even noticing it. I hog the bed as soon as David starts his morning ritual. By the time he heads out the door, I sit at my laptop to check out morning status posts, cute animal pictures, game requests, and jokes. I head over to check my email and peruse the news. Usually I multitask, running clothes through the washer and shifting them to the dryer when I return letters or write a blog post. By 9 AM, the dogs and I head for the back yard. Koi viciously snarls and snaps at the hose, tugging with all of his might to “help” me unwind this coiled snake. I slowly water each bush and hanging basket, all the while yearning for the blessing of rain upon our scorched world.

 

            By the time I reenter the house, the laundry’s dry. I hang, and fold, and put everything neatly away. Then I tackle another small chore—put away the clean dishes stacked so neatly in the dishwasher, vacuum and mop the floors, dust off the find layer that’s settled onto the furniture since the previous week, scrub the tubs and toilets. No matter what the task, I usually finish between 10:30 and 11:00.

            So I pull my hair back into a ponytail, don my Skechers, and head for the gym. Determined to regain my life, I push through thirty minutes of aerobics and another thirty minutes of weights. I mentally mark off the day of the week—Monday, Wednesday, Friday dedicated to upper body. Tuesdays and Thursdays focused on lower body. Weekly weigh-ins show no weight loss, but the tape measure’s become my best friend. I’ve honed almost eighteen inches off of during the last three months. Each half-inch shift gives me the push to head back to the cross trainer. Logic tells me that I spent a decade taking care of someone else, and I should allow myself time to regain my physical endurance. I arrive home sweating like a pig. No delicate “perspiration” for me! A quick soak to stretch out my muscles, and then the rest of the day remains open.

            And so I find myself with plenty of time, practically for the first time ever, to do anything I want (within budgetary reason). Some days, I’ll pick something on Netflix and do a marathon television session. Other days, the TV sits silent all day while I catch up on reading all of the books my favorite authors published over the last four years when Mom’s care shoved reading into an occasional luxury. I’ve even constructed a list of projects to do around the house—like painting the kitchen. Writing, the one thing I clung to tenaciously as HD demolished my mother, now shifts to a leisurely pleasure.

            Yesterday, I began researching some of those little details writers place into books. My curiosity queried on how long a horse can trot pulling a wagon, and how many miles per hour it would go. I needed to know what courses a nurse took going to John Sealy Hospital School of Nurses in the early 1900s. I spent my afternoon with Google and Bing (sounds like a vaudeville act).

            I find great pleasure in discovering the miracle of having plenty of time. I think I’ll luxuriate in it (and maybe brag about it) for quite a while.

 

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

             

 

“Fringe Fanatic”

www.collider.com

Netflix became my major resource for finding a variety of television shows for my mother during the eighteen months we spent together. Huntington’s disease didn’t affect my mother’s sense of humor, and it didn’t take away her deductive and inductive reasoning when it came to analyzing the news or following a crime show. That meant we could view an assortment of television shows and movies as a way of filling our days. Eventually, we remembered our love for The X-Files, and together we watched every episode. The science fiction/horror/detective/comedy mixture appealed to both of us, and we allocated two hours a day to watching the show until we viewed the final film.

Over the last couple of months, I’ve slipped back into the daily routine of keeping my afternoons open for reading or television. The beginning of the summer found me outside, swinging in my tree, as I read whatever novel caught my fancy. Then I discovered Fringe. One of my Facebook friends mentioned the show casually in a status, advising me that I’d love the program. I lodged the title into the back of my brain, but didn’t go out of my way to find or watch an episode until a couple of weeks ago.



www.winextra.com
 

Every morning, I hastily rush through my chores (the house requires less and less daily maintenance as I hack away at deep cleaning projects). Then I dash to the gym for aerobics and weights. After I get cleaned up, I hop into the car to run errands. Usually by three o’clock each afternoon, I settle on the couch with my favorite blanket, both dogs, some fruit and iced tea. With controller in hand, I switch on the television to my newest passion that mixes science fiction with horror as The Fringe Division investigates whatever fantasy J.J. Abrams and his crew of writers can imagine.

Every day, I think of how much my mother would have delighted in the “mad” scientist and his quirky personality. She would have sat with me to watch these characters evolve as they maneuver through bizarre situations, offering her astute conclusions on what’s to come next.

I find it reassuring that I can spend my days viewing a television show that reminds me of my mother without feeling overwhelmed by loss. I still don’t turn on Mom’s favorites (Law and Order, or Everybody Loves Raymond), but I can discover something new that she would have loved, and I catch myself wondering about the quips she would have made during an episode. I miss her comments and insights; but when I surprise myself by thinking, “Mom would’ve loved the plot on this episode,” I don’t feel sadness.

The littlest things let me know that grief slowly shifts into the background. Turning into a Fringe fanatic actually means I’m fine!



www.imageevent.com

 

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman  

                                         
 

"Hollywood Heartthrobs"

         Because of Netflix and TCM, I started a mental list of Hollywood Heartthrobs. These splendid actors, with their dashing good looks, draw me into their worlds for about two hours at a time. The other day, I realized that my list of favorites included debonair dudes  dating back to my parent's generation and went all the way to current gents with “bedroom eyes.”

         I began to wonder exactly what combination of traits made me hunger for one Hollywood hunk over another. When I considered my list critically, I realized that voices play a huge role in my criteria for sexy. Looks may come and go, wrinkles and sags eventually get the best of everyone, but voices—well, they stay wonderfully sensual throughout a lifetime.

         My admiration for many of my heartthrobs evolved as an appreciation of their ability to craft their art. The actor playing the same character year after year and film after film didn't make my list. I particularly enjoy watching a performance where I lose the actor within the character he portrays.

         I sat down today to generate an inventory of my Top Ten Heartthrobs, and surprised myself when I crossed several names off of my list. I know my sister will squeal in protest over the deletion of Sean Connery while several other friends will feel disbelief that I don’t have Robert Redford, Mel Gibson, or Richard Gere. Anyway. . . here’s the list:

Chapman’s Top Ten Heartthrobs (in no particular order):

1.       Gregory Peck                             6.  Jimmy Stewart

2.       Cary Grant                                  7.  Gene Kelly

3.      Johnny Depp                               8.  Keanu Reeves

4.      Harrison Ford                              9.  Tom Hanks

5.      Denzel Washington                    10. Orlando Bloom

My curiosity longs to know, who would be on your list? 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Hollywood Heartthrobs”

         Because of Netflix and TCM, I started a mental list of Hollywood Heartthrobs. These splendid actors, with their dashing good looks, draw me into their worlds for about two hours at a time. The other day, I realized that my list of favorites included debonair dudes  dating back to my parent's generation and went all the way to current gents with “bedroom eyes.”

         I began to wonder exactly what combination of traits made me hunger for one Hollywood hunk over another. When I considered my list critically, I realized that voices play a huge role in my criteria for sexy. Looks may come and go, wrinkles and sags eventually get the best of everyone, but voices—well, they stay wonderfully sensual throughout a lifetime.

         My admiration for many of my heartthrobs evolved as an appreciation of their ability to craft their art. The actor playing the same character year after year and film after film didn't make my list. I particularly enjoy watching a performance where I lose the actor within the character he portrays.

         I sat down today to generate an inventory of my Top Ten Heartthrobs, and surprised myself when I crossed several names off of my list. I know my sister will squeal in protest over the deletion of Sean Connery while several other friends will feel disbelief that I don’t have Robert Redford, Mel Gibson, or Richard Gere. Anyway. . . here’s the list:

Chapman’s Top Ten Heartthrobs (in no particular order):

1.       Gregory Peck                             6.  Jimmy Stewart

2.       Cary Grant                                  7.  Gene Kelly

3.      Johnny Depp                               8.  Keanu Reeves

4.      Harrison Ford                              9.  Tom Hanks

5.      Denzel Washington                    10. Orlando Bloom

My curiosity longs to know, who would be on your list? 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Lifetime Movies = Lifeline Movies”

            Being housebound a large portion of each day means finding ways to keep minds sharp, attentions attuned, and moods elevated. That’s hard when a person has limited mobility and high levels of fatigue. When Mom first moved in, she could still do a little exercising—mainly working with rubber bands for her arms and some leg lifts while sitting in her wheelchair. As the months slip by, we’ve resorted more and more to television for amusement. For me, it’s been a learning experience as I’ve never watched that much television. Even as a child, I’d rather lounge with book in hand, preferring to spend hours in the wanton luxury of the written word over watching a crime show or sitcom.

            Care-giving for my mother means long days rotating through various types of television entertainment. We may begin the morning with back-to-back episodes of a true classic like I Love Lucy. From there we may dally with the local and national news, or spend half-an-hour bemoaning the drought as we watch the Weather Channel. Mom loves detective and law shows, so the entire Law and Order franchise fills many hours. These shows, added to the news, leave us with plenty to talk about as the day unwinds. Throw in favorite shows we access through Netflix, and we manage to keep a wide of variety to our daily viewing.

            If we’ve managed to leave the house earlier in the week, Mom’s exhaustion by the end of the week extends beyond physical symptoms and into mental fatigue on her usual shows (except for her passion for Everybody Loves Raymond). By Thursday or Friday, nothing appeals to Mom except viewing Lifetime movies. Imagine my surprise to see many of my favorite actors in these movies! Also, I suspect many of the young actors refining their skills in these movies will make the leap to the “big screen” within a few years. We enjoy paying attention to script structure, soundtrack music, and the details behind the directing on these television movies. Sometimes we discuss the basic plot that unfolds before us, predicting possible outcomes and endings. Sometimes we compare an actor’s performance in this movie to the more familiar television character we’d viewed him or her in week after week. Sometimes we comment on the locations of the productions. Always, we find something to talk about by viewing these films.

            As Mom’s Huntington’s Disease progresses, she’s finding speech more and more difficult. Our discussions slip into her initiating with shorter comments and responding in phrases instead of full conversations. Although she eventually may not talk at all, her mind will still be as sharp as ever. My commentary may become more and more one-sided, but her interests will still be the same. At that time, I know that Lifetime movies will become our lifeline movies.

 Mom at age 62 hiking with Dad 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman