Finding Comfort in the Familiar

Ebony and I were living together for four years when we finally started getting serious about making wedding plans. We were enjoying a lazy engagement and the pleasure of living together without roommates, while we worked and started to save. 

I had gotten Ebony a signed copy of David Tutera's "The Big White Book of Weddings," and we watched every wonderful and silly show about weddings. We loved "My Fair Wedding" and "Say Yes to the Dress," while Ebony particularly embraced "Four Weddings," a show where four brides compete for a free honeymoon by rating each other’s weddings. I found it to be sadistic as the brides were always harsh critics. Still, I watched it with her, and I would yell at the television, apoplectic, "How can you say that about someone's wedding you were fortunate enough to attend, eating and drinking for free? You didn't care for the centerpieces? Really?" Ebony would giggle as I lost it. "No one will ever make fun of our wedding," I promised her. 

As it turns out, sadly, I was right. 

In 2015, Ebony, who had migraines since she was a teen, found she was having them with more frequency and greater intensity. She take some over-the-counter pain relievers, drink some tea, lie down for an hour and be right as rain. When I expressed concern she dismissed me. She was fine, she said.

By June, it had become too much and I took her to the hospital, North Shore Long Island Jewish. Three days after being admitted, and a battery of tests and imaging, Ebony was diagnosed with brain cancer. Specifically, she had an anaplastic astrocytoma, a malignant tumor composed of a mass of cells with splinters. Doctors can remove the mass, but the splinters are difficult and can and will eventually form another tumor.

We sought a second opinion which lead us to New York Presbyterian/Weill Cornell. The diagnosis was the same, but the enthusiasm of the medical team was very encouraging, although they said that if this had gone unchecked, Ebony would have been dead by Christmas.

In September, Ebony had brain surgery followed by aggressive radiation and chemotherapy. In January, the doctors told us that her imaging looked good and showed no signs of tumor recurrence. With this kind of cancer they don't say, "You're in remission," they say, "there's been no recurrence." This would have to be managed, however, with regular hospital visits: blood work every two weeks, MRIs ever six. One of the doctors told us he'd seen patients go as much as twenty years with recurrence. We were encouraged, relieved and, exhausted, returned to our lives with new hope.

I think we consciously knew we had to step things up. After everything she'd been through, a wedding seemed frivolous: Ebony wanted to live in the moment and not idle away her time planning for a one-day event. We loved each other, so hotly and so blissfully, anyone would think we didn't have a care in the world. We ate out, went to movies, comedy shows, ordered in and played video games; we traveled to Jamaica, to San Francisco; we took day trips to the north shore of Long Island to visit wineries and made frequent trips to visit my mother in Newport, Rhode Island.  

More than anything, we went to concerts. We both just loved to see live music. Metalheads, we met and fell in love because of our love of Brooklyn gothic doom metal sensations, Type O Negative. In the months that followed we saw so many bands including Adam Ant, Amon Amarth, At The Gates, Black Sabbath, Children of Bodom, The Cult, Filter, Fleshgod Apocalypse, Judas Priest, Lacuna Coil, Moonspell, Slayer, Sodom and Yoshiki at Carnegie Hall. Some of my favorite memories with Ebony was just watching her, so engaged with the music, smiling and swaying from side to side, or just putting her arm around me and knowing were so happy to have found each other.

In the spring of 2017, the doctors informed us that Ebony's tumor had recurred.

There are pictures all around the house, like a shrine. I see her everyday, in so many places. I see her in people, like Zerlina Maxwell when she's speaking out against injustice on MSNBC; I see her on Instagram when Jessica Williams is declaring how tall she is; I see her in the background of on-the-scene news reports when a crowd has gathered after yet another awful hate crime and a young woman is just looking into the camera and shaking her head. But mostly I see her in the faces of everyone attending a concert. They are alive and free from pain, celebrating the music, dancing and singing along among friends. When I go to these shows, It makes me feel like she isn't that far away and that somehow, Ebony is there with me. I sometimes cry but it makes me so happy. 

Friends tell me that my grief will get easier over time, and that's difficult to fathom; but right now, I am taking comfort in the familiar and, at least as long as I'm engaged with the music, I feel a little better, even optimistic. I feel hope and love and that's everything I felt with Ebony. 

I never know what to watch after SNL finishes. With a million channels to choose from, the thing I came across that is most intriguing is HSN.

HSN is one of a dozen or so dedicated shopping channels, like QVC and ShopHG. These channels each generate billions of dollars in annual sales. Clearly someone is watching and buying. And with numbers like that, it's no wonder that people are drawn to it to sell, sell, sell. I don't watch these things, but my mother does. She has one channel that she watches, with a show that features Waterford Crystal, the Irish crystal glass makers which she adores, and has actually called in and been on the air twice - TWICE - talking to the host after a purchase she made. About 20 years ago, when my mother was still teaching, she had difficulty sleeping (a trait I have inherited) and was prescribed Ambien for a short time. Ambien is a funny drug that sometimes can create in its host a kind-of "blackout drunk" state where the person functions as if they are awake but completely unaware of it later. During this time, my mother used to go on what I called "Ambien Shopping Trips," and days later she'd find packages at the door she'd purchased in this Fugue State. Thanks to this period, my mother has and continues to use a 6 1/2 foot artificial Christmas tree with built-in lights that never burn out. This is how I learned about the popularity of these channels.

Right now, the channel is running a marathon of IMAN: Global Chic Fashions, featuring Iman, billed here as "Designer." Currently — Live! - she is on with a blonde co-host (no idea what her name is) promoting her Luxury Resortwear line, and featuring Today’s Special ($39.95): a 2- pack of Luxury Palazzo Pants. And I am riveted because she was a) a supermodel; b) in Star Trek VI; c) happily married to the late David Bowie; and d) I think she's hot. Oh, and PS, she’s 65 and looks, I don’t know, 40? (Later on, her co-host will announce that she herself is 40 and it’s just awkward.)

I suppose i find it a little incongruous as I just imagine Iman jetting around the world or lunching at La Grenouille in NYC twice a week and yet here she is, a regular fixture on the channel formerly known by its full name, The Home Shopping Network. When she speaks, in her native Somalian accent, I try to focus, but cannot help hearing her saying to Shatner in Star Trek IV, "Not everyone keeps their genitals in the same place, Captain."

The entire show feels like an extended version of the two-minute “Fashion” segment of any morning network news and entertainment program ("This morning we'll be discussing the very serious and lethal threat of the Coronavirus; then later, we're checking in with Mizz Sheelah about the hottest shoes for summer and what sandals are right for you!"): it’s bright, breezy, upbeat and positive with a lot of descriptive detail about the clothes but also filled with uncomfortable, forced “funny” banter. But no commercials because the entire show is a commercial. So it's just 60 minutes of Iman and friends and I. Am. IN.

From the word GO, they start really leaning into how these pants, which have a pull-on style and are available in a variety of colors and prints, (notably solids and Leopard), will make you look “chic.” (The 2-pack will get you one solid and one print.) Also, the material (unnamed) moves. "It doesn’t cling on the body, and as soon as you put it on, it elongates your body, it’s fluid around the waist and it glides on your body like silk. And they’re machine-washable! So it’s a Win-Win situation.” Wow. I wonder if Iman has ever worn items from this line to the Met Gala.

They just look like cool pajamas to me -- the Purple Leopard-print Luxury Palazzo Pants look great with a red top, notably on the foxy model of a certain complexion who is wearing black Jackie O sunglasses and a Rhoda-esque Blue Leopard-print Luxury Headscarf — but I guess you can strut through the Casino Monte-Carlo or throw wine at one of your fellow housewives and still look fabulous. Also, Iman announces that “Leopard is in fashion EVERY SEASON and looks ELEGANT and CHIC however you mix it!” I’m pretty sold.

They have other things to sell as well, like the Luxury Resort 3/4-Sleeve Keyhole Tunic ($39.75); the Leopard Wedge Sandal, with a 1 1/2” platform and 4” heel (available in blue!). They also appear to have handbags but either I missed it or for whatever reason they aren’t going to discuss these today. OH NO! I stand corrected: for $44.95, you can also get the Luxury Resort Leopard Print Tote, (item #693-533), evidently available in Fuchsia, Indigo or Sexy Violet (I am guessing on the color names).

People call in and get to talk to Iman for a moment to genuflect and celebrate recent purchases and I wonder f anyone calls and wants to talk about “Let’s Dance” or “Blackstar,” though I suppose HSN screens the calls thoroughly. And it would be pretty hurtful and disrespectful to Iman but nevertheless, the thought ran across my mind, just for a second. I guess if I did get through I would tell her that I loved all his albums, and, “I miss him, too.”

They have since moved on to the Luxury Resort Duster Vest. I always thought dusters were a very strange item of clothing that serves no purpose - it just looks like a lab coat to me, for women who don't work in a lab but want the feel of being on "Grey's Anatomy" - but I know nothing about fashion, much less women’s fashion. Yet to me, a duster is neither “coat” nor “sweater,” as it won’t protect from inclement weather or (seemingly) keep you warm. I don’t understand what its function is but I see that dusters are incredibly popular. I see them everywhere on women of a certain age, especially in Spring and Autumn, so they must have some purpose. And I could easily see Ebony wearing all this stuff: she had a 3/4 length sweater- though to be fair, it was A SWEATER - so if she was here, she could buy the entire collection and winter in Monaco in style.

I find the co-host to be a little disingenuous discussing the Luxury Resort Blazer, an item which looks like a blazer and, which, as she is wearing it, declares, “I have been looking for a blazer like this!” And I’m thinking, “You work at HSN!” There’s NEVER been a blazer like that ever featured? I can’t tell if she’s reading from a TelePrompTer or vamping. It must be hard to stand next to Iman, who looks devastating at 65, and try to be cool and convivial while you are selling Hot Panamas.

Ooh! They just announced that, today only, if you donate $3. or more to NEST (Nest is a nonprofit 501(c)(3) building a new handworker economy to increase global workforce inclusivity, improve women’s wellbeing beyond factories, and preserve important cultural traditions around the world), HSN will match the donations. Pretty neat.

While I was typing, the hour ended and is now into an Encore presentation, so I guess they’re just going to run this over and over all night. Daylight Savings Time just kicked in and now it’s 3 instead of 2 a.m. but I might stay up and watch it again because listening to Iman’s mellifluous Luxury Resort Palazzo voice is enchanting and I can’t sleep anyway.

Check it all out at HSN.com...