Wonderful Wanda

Wanda F. Wilson

A Lady Never Tells Her Age - January 30, 2015

Her name was Wanda.  She was a character.  I mean that in a good way.  I met her years ago when I was working at Opera Memphis as their wig and makeup designer.  After our regular rehearsals during Hell Week, the production team would go to various spots to have our midnight meetings.  One of those times, we went to at the P&H Cafe, and it quickly became a favorite nightspot for me and my crew after shows closed.  

Wanda welcomed everyone to her place.  It was her living room.  We were her family and we quickly got on a first name basis.  She dressed eccentrically, from the hat and wig on her head, to the shoes on her feet to the jewelry she wore and the polish on her long fingernails.  She explained to me once how one day she started wearing wigs daily because her hair was too thin and it was just too much trouble to take care of.  The wigs became her signature, and along with her hats, were also her trademark.  She came to be known for her eccentricity, but she did not live eccentrically.  Her home was a small bungalow in an eclectic part of Memphis, and she invited me there once during the Halloween season.

Wanda had regular events at the P&H which, for those of you unfamiliar with the moniker, means "Poor and Hungry".  One of her events was a Costume Contest at Halloween.  It happened to coincide with a costume day where I worked, so when I told Wanda about it and my idea to dress as her, she instantly loved the idea and invited me to come to her house, where she showed me what she was made of.  "Wow", was all I could think, as she showed me her wardrobe of wigs, hats, dresses, boots and shoes, and jewelry.  Her wardrobe would be the envy of any actress, if they only knew it existed.  She happily brought out some dresses that she would like to see on me, and we spent the afternoon playing dress-up.  I felt as if I had found a good friend or mother-figure that I so desperately wanted and needed at that time.  After selecting the proper outfit, we completed the selection with one of her trademark wigs, hat and jewelry.  I wore my own boots, but only after I received her approval.  Out the door I went, knowing that not only did I have the most wonderful costume ever, but also that I had a surprise in store for Miss Wanda.

After my successful debut at work as Miss Wanda, my husband and I were to attend a costume party at The Castle in Memphis.  As we left the party, we drove near the P&H, and decided to drop in.  When we walked in, the place fell silent, as the fake Wanda made her way to the original and sat at her table, after being welcomed with her characteristic hug, saved for everyone.  We stayed for the costume contest, and after some deliberation, which didn't take long at all, the fake Wanda won!  I felt somewhat of a fraud for accepting the prize, but gratefully accepted and proceeded to buy the house a round of drinks and burgers.  Wanda gave and Wanda received.  We took a picture together that night, standing back to back in a mirror image.  She put the picture up on the wall at the P&H.  It was wonderful and I felt loved.

As I grew to regard the P&H as my regular spot, I would bring my crew from the opera there on closing nights.  It was my custom to treat my girls to a beer and burger party to thank them for all the hard work they did, and yes, it was all on me.  We stayed until the wee hours of the morning, and on some occasions, closed the place down.  I loved giving the girls a treat, and loved giving Wanda my business.  It felt like home.

On one occasion, I wore one of my favorite sweaters to the P&H.  It was black, grey and white, and looked like a patchwork quilt in knitted yarn.  Wanda loved it.  I wanted to give it to her, so I asked her if she would like to trade for it.  Wanda did, and she brought out a sweatshirt in my size that said "I spent the night with Wanda".  I loved it and the trade was made.  I went to change and came out with the sweater in hand and the sweatshirt on my back.  I never saw her wear the sweater, but it made me feel good to know that I had done something personal for her.

As my health changed near the year 2000, I knew that I couldn't continue to work my day job and the opera job too, and I hesitated in telling Wanda that I would be leaving my opera job.  When I shared this bit of information with her, she said that she was upset because she thought she might never see me again.  Unfortunately, she was right.  After leaving the opera, my husband and I came back to visit her, but she was never there.  It was always too early in the day or she was off that night.  I had heard that she sold part of the business so she could take it a little easier, and it bothered me that I had let her go so quickly after leaving the opera.  

Wanda passed away this past Friday, January 30, 2015.  In a year of endings for me, she began her new beginning.  She never told me her spiritual beliefs, but it never mattered.  She was my friend, and that's how I'll always remember her.  When the movie, "Poor and Hungry", was being filmed, she invited me to come and be in the closing credits.  I brought my young son, Rhys, with me, and although I don't know if we made it to the credits, I like to think that we did.  After all, we were "poor and hungry" too.  

Rest in peace, Wanda.  I love you too, my friend.  

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

An Open Letter to the Universe

Note:  this is one of a series of blogs which I wrote previously, and am now publishing.  This one is from January, 2014.

Dear Universe/Source/God,

My family needs help.  We have done our best with everything you have given us, but still we are almost destitute and don't know where to turn or what to do next.  My husband is still looking for a job that will pay the bills, as is my son.  I am still in school with a workload that would make the strongest people cry.

We are just a couple of months away from losing our house.  I don't know how we will pay all the bills that are stacking up against us.  It's only a short period of time before our electricity, phone, internet, cable and security system are turned off.  We are being hounded by bill collectors.  Haven't we suffered enough?

I wake up each morning in a city that I have hated for almost 32 years.  Have I not suffered enough?  What is it going to take before you are satisfied that I have done my penance for whatever wrong you think I have committed?  When are you going to show us the "grace" and "mercy" that you promised?  Have I not honored your creation?  What... WHAT is it going to TAKE?????  WHEN is it MY turn to be comforted???  I have long since atoned for everything I have done.  Please show me that you have not forgotten your promises to me.

If ever we needed a miracle, it is now.  Please help us.

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

The Hitler Syndrome

Note:  This one is from January, 2014.

I admit it.  I have a hard time not saying things that need to be said.  I also have a hard time admitting things that are not true.  I say this because of recent events in school this week.

This program director and his cohorts have taken a disliking to me lately, ever since I outed them on their unethical practice of including items on exams that are from a unit to come.  They ambushed me and gave me their version of a third degree interrogation.  These ambushes are common for these people, who do not give unsuspecting students a chance to prepare a defense for what they claim are the students' "offenses".  The past couple of weeks, it has been my turn to be their victim.

I have had several major tragedies in my life as of late, none of which is any of their business.  I repeat, NONE OF WHICH IS ANY OF THEIR BUSINESS!  *whew*  That felt good to write.  These idiots think it is their right to pry into people's lives and that they, in their beneficence, will come to save the day.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  When you beat a horse constantly, there is going to come a point when the horse will turn on you or will just stop getting up.  That is where I am with this.  I have been beaten and harrassed constantly by these people, and this horse stopped getting up.  I have not turned on anyone; I have just stopped saying anything about my personal life.

A person's personal life will give many insights into what is going on in their head which, again, is NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS!  My life is my life.  I am passing my classes and doing the best I can.  And being in a physical therapy program, imagine my surprise when they decided to give me a hard time when I experienced a fall in my kitchen and came in to class with my foot wrapped and on a cane.  Got that?  I CHOSE TO COME IN instead of going to the doctor at that point.  I did go to the doctor later on, but was that good enough for these morons?  No no NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.  They gave me a hard time about not performing lifts that day.  So I came in with my doctor's note the next day.  And they decided to write me an "official letter" outlining my offenses.  Whatever.  I am not the only one they are doing this to; they seem to want to alienate the entire class 2 weeks before spring break and our next clinical.  I am personally fed up with them and their guerilla tactics, as is the rest of the class.  We had a guest speaker the other day who was a graduate of this program.  The class discussed this amongst ourselves later on, and all of us agreed that there was NO WAY that we would ever come back and do a class for these idiots.  They have burned their bridges with us, when they should have been building them all this time.

So congratulations, morons.  You have completely alienated the very people that could help you make this program less tedious and boring.  You have given us a reason to not keep in touch with you.  Why would we?  You are unapproachable.  You are unpleasant.  You are pricks.  We have no reason to ever want to even remember your names when we are done.  I can guarantee with about 95% accuracy that you will never hear from any of us again.  So if that was your goal, you made it.  Congratulations.

What idiots.

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

P.S.  This is a series of posts that I am writing and saving to be published after I am safely out of their reach.  The provost will receive a letter from me as well.  I don't have to save the world, but these people should not be in charge either.

The Hazing Continues

NOTE:  This is a blog post that I wrote on the 20th of January, 2014, but have taken down until I am safely out of the reach of the idiots that run the program I am in at school.  Enjoy.


I can't believe it is already the 20th of January and I haven't written anything about this semester.  Even though it just began slightly over a week ago, this semester is shaping up to be everything that has been promised:  The worst semester we will have.

My first week began with two practicals, an exam and a quiz.  I did fine on the quiz.  I think I did fine on the exam.  Can't remember if we got those grades back yet.  I usually write those things down.  Did fine on one practical but not on the other and have to repeat it tomorrow after class.  *sigh*  All that in one week, along with mind-numbing lectures, a group project this week (which are always SO much fun), an in-service individual presentation, and another exam.  AND I have been sick.  Sick enough to take an antibiotic.  AND we have issues with finding jobs and no money to speak of.

When I was young, we used to say "Say UNCLE" when we reached a point of surrender.  UNCLE!!!  UNCLE!!!  Wait... it worked when I was young.  Why isn't there anyone around to let me have some rest now?  Oh yeah... that growing up thing.  I have to be the grown-up.  If I'd known that being an adult was such a pain, I would have stayed a child... or at least tried to enjoy my childhood a little more instead of rushing to be a grown-up.

I can't help but feel that every semester has been an exercise in hazing.  The schedule is never consistent; we never have a schedule we can count on.  I keep hearing things like "you have to listen to me".  Yeah, honey, we only have to listen for another 30 classroom sessions.  Yes, we are counting it down.  I have heard it from a lot of people.  I haven't heard anyone say that they will be sorry when this is over.  For someone like me, putting me back in a classroom after being in a clinical setting is like being a caged animal.  I WANT to be out of school and get our lives on track!

I've heard some things from instructors and therapists in clinic about keeping in touch.  Honestly, after I'm done, it will take a while before I keep in touch with anyone.  My focus will be on getting a job and becoming the best that I can be for my sake and for my family.

I need my sanity back.  "These are the times that try men's souls."  Who said that?  Thomas Paine?  He was right.  I'm trying, really I am.  But I have too much going on.  I am starting to understand why people wander away from their lives and never come back.  You just get to the point that you can't take anymore and anything else feels like relief.  I will try not to wander away... but I make no promises.

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta