In 2015 George Hodgman wrote a best selling memoir of his return to small town Paris, Missouri to care for his Mother, Betty. The book was called Bettyville, and it was as often laugh-out-loud funny as it was poignant and heartbreaking. As George, a gay man, said, in the beginning he thought that the "donut hole" was some sort of senior breakfast buffet item. He knew nothing about cooking, caring for the elderly, let alone the elderly demented. He had for years been a well-respected Editor and writer in New York City. The book is an amazing journey and I recommend it to all.
Some of George's final words in his book imagine his own last time in the care of others. He begins like this:
"Sometimes I think of how it will be when I am old. I am lying in my bed in the Liza Minnelli ward at Villa Fabulosa. I can hear the old queens singing songs from Evita in The Madonna Conference Room. Madonna is gone, but her cone bras and bones are on display at the Smithsonian Institution.
Someone comes into the room, tucks the sheet under your legs, asks if you are feeling like you can sleep tonight. He may or may not really be there at all; maybe you just need someone to listen, to answer. But you think he is there, a real person to break the night.
He is a kind man, and in the end, kindness is everything......"
Hail fellow and well-met. Should you find Betty, give her a hug from her many fans and let her know she made you a star. My brother always claimed you "wrote his life"; you honored us by playfully dubbing us your first fans. The family is taking care of that good dog, Raj; thanks for all you did for homeless shelter dogs. As your friend Laura said, now, "home safe". It was your journey and your choice all the way, and you did just fine.
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