Thursday, May 29, 2008

Everybody is a Star

So, the day before Bubba and I headed east recently, while packing, I noticed the fire department urgently walking up my driveway. Sadly, they were heading for the back, upstairs apartment of our elderly neighbor, Hannah. Hannah, an 88 year-old former actress, had suffered what turned out to be a massive, fatal heart attack. We actually didn't know it was fatal when we left. A neighbor told me she'd died right then and there, but her caretaker told me she was still alive. It's a surreal circumstance to know your neighbor might be dead when you come home.
I'd only directly met Hannah a handful of times. She was old and in poor health, predominantnly unable to traverse the stairs. She'd had several episodes when she lived alone, where she'd fallen and was stuck for hours, unable to be tended to. After one such incident, she was forcibly removed for several months. But she kept fighting, and had returned in better health several months ago, and now with live in care. Finally, her heart and will gave out and she succumbed.
Why do I mention all of this? Because for every Clooney, Roberts, and Eastwood, there are thousands more "Hannah's" strewn about Hollywood. From what I'd gleaned, she was a marginal actress back in the day. Look her up on IMDB and you'll find a sole role, where she played a nurse on a Morgan Fairchild series for one episode. Apparently she'd done enough other things in her career, such that she was able to make a living, before retiring some time ago. Almost daily, I'd see her Variety magazine, and the periodic free dvd's from the Screen Actor's Guild, for her to vote on for the awards shows. She was also eligible for, and awaiting entrance into some type of SAG sponsored retirement home.
Hannah never got a star on the walk of fame. Never won an Academy Award. Best as I can tell, her claim to fame is being my landlord's oldest tenant (40 years). But she was a sweet old gal. When I DID see her, she'd usually offer me a stale box of chocolates, or some other sundry from the years worth of stuff she'd amassed in her apartment, as some type of offering. She also used to leave food out for the strays, leading to the two cats we ended up rescuing.
I don't know what happens to anonymous members of the chorus when they pass. You don't hear about it on "Entertainment Tonight." Star or not, she was a brick in the castle that is Hollywood.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

that's a very sweet eulogy buh