As I learn about Deaf Culture I stopped....

What is a Handicap?  Is is a physical impairment?  Is it something to be pitied? Should you help? If so, when do you help?  How do you help?

My first lesson in being handicapped was back many years ago when I was in England.  I met a man from Ireland whose leg had been permanently disabled in an accident. I thoroughly enjoyed just listening to him talk because I enjoyed listening to the lilt of his Irish accent.  The only part of our conversation I did not enjoy hearing was his constantly referring to himself as a cripple.  In our Politically Correct society we have almost compleatly wiped that word from our vocabulary as if it were a curse word.  In my conversation with this Irishman I kept trying to get him to stop using crippled and start using another word like disabled or handicapped, but I couldn't.  Crippled was a word that was so ingrained into him that, even if he wanted to, he couldn't change and no amount of persuading by a 21-year-old American college student would make any difference.

My second lesson came about 10 years later when I met and became best friends with 6 women: AM who is 5 years younger than me, SEJ who is 12 years younger, LMT who is 14 years younger, CS who is 15 years younger, SL who is 16 years younger and D who is 17 years younger.  When we met AM & I were the only ones of drinking age.  The rest were still considered "girls" at the time, but they have all since matured into wonderfully beautiful and talented women. One of the women, SL, has cerebral palsy, a condition that does not allow her legs to straighten without effort or her feet to be flexible.  Both cause her to have a very distinctive gait. It was from SL that I learned that a handicap is only as disabling as the person who has the handicap: a disability may slow her down, but it will never stop her. Whenever any of us were out with SL, especially if we were walking, she could out walk all of us, which was quite a feat since AM and LMT were both 5' 11" and CS was 6'.  We would all have to run to catch up with her. Then one day, one of the other women, I think it was SEJ, or maybe it was AM, was talking about SL.  Bear in mind that both SEJ and AM are people who occasionally mix up words or come out with a spoonerism.  So we were all talking about SL and her disability, and instead of saying "Handicapped," whoever it was said she was "Handiclad."  Handiclad?? We all had a good laugh over that one. But then SL said that she liked that label because it was unusual and because it better fit who she was.

My third and most important lesson came when I decided to go to school to learn American Sign Language (ASL).  It is through my classes and the most especially through my contacts with the Deaf Community that I've learned that there are many disabilities in life. The biggest lesson I've learned is that being deaf is neither a disability nor a handicap.

In the Fall of 2010 I had to take a class about Deaf Culture. In this class I learned a lot of things about Deaf Culture, the most important being that the Deaf are not handicapped, nor are they disabled. They are simply not able to hear.  It is the hearing that have the handicap.

Back in my first semester in Spring 2009 I picked up a book at the bookstore entitled Deaf Like Me.  It was the story of a woman by the name of Lynn Spradley and is written by her father and uncle. It begins about the time Lynn was conceived when her older brother came down with Rubella. Her parents had been trying to have another child and her mother discovered she was pregnant about the same time.  Her mother agonized over whether the rubella would cause a problem but all she could do was wait to see what happened. This was in 1964 so there were no definitive tests to be done like there is today.  The book goes on to detail the family's struggle to deal with Lynn's deafness.  The prevailing thought at the time was that if you gave a Deaf child hearing aids and enough speech therapy then the child would learn to speak.  Manual communication (a.k.a. sign language) was out of the question because speech was the arbiter of intelligence.  Her parents eventually came to learn that being Deaf was not what defined Lynn, it was merely one aspect of her personality.  Over time the entire family come to understand that fact and Lynn is now a fully capable adult woman.

As I learn about Deaf Culture I stopped.... thinking of people in terms of their disability, thinking that all Deaf can lip-read (they can't and they would rather you write out what you want to say to them, or, better yet, learn ASL),  thinking the Deaf need to have their deafness fixed, and thinking that all people with conditions that different than normal should be pitied. 

People who are differently abled from the mainstream population just want what we all want: to be treated with respect and to be allowed to live their lives on their terms.

The Nerve of Some People!!

Being disabled is very stressful. On a good day it's a mild annoyance and only slightly painful. And on a bad day, well..., it can be so painful that you don't want to move out of bed much less leave the house to run necessary errands.  This makes having a mobility scooter a necessity, especially if the person either doesn't drive or the person does drive but does not have any other vehicle.  Mobility scooters are so wonderful because if walking is painful and difficult they can get you places without having to rely on anyone to come and take you.  To get a mobility scooter is not easy because they are not cheap.  I paid $800 for a used one.  A new mobility scooter can cost up to $4000.

Sometimes an agency such as Vocational Rehabilitation will buy a Mobility scooter for a client.  But if something should happen to the scooter then it's up to the client to take care of it.  So what happens if the scooter is stolen?  Nothing!  Who pays for it to be replaced?  You do!

Back on March 15th when I first started this blog entry we were dealing with the aftermath of D's scooter being stolen.  The picture of is a similar model to hers.  She and my DF were visiting her daughter for the afternoon and they decided to go off to the store.  When they came out my DF asked D where she'd parked the scooter. D just looked at him oddly and told him it was off to the side of the parking area near the dumpster.  That's when they all realized it was gone.  They called the police and a report was taken, but there was not much they could do at the moment.  D's daughter lives with her ex and they live in an apartment complex that used to be named Colony Woods and later earned the nickname "Felony Woods".  The complex has a new name now, but various tenants activities keep the old reputation fresh in people's minds.

This all happened on a Saturday.  D became very depressed because of the missing scooter and we had to call the medical supply store the following Monday to get the serial number and such.  And then that next Thursday she got a call from the complex's office saying that the scooter had been found by someone on the maintenance staff.  Why they didn't just call the police to let them know, I have not idea.  So D & M went over and got it and brought it back home.  Though when they got over to the complex they found that the thieves had not been kind: the headlight cover was smashed and gone (thought the actual light bulb was fine), the mirror was gone, the basket was gone, and the seat back was covered with a substance that M thought was mud but which turned out to be fecal matter and mucus (shudders).  D rode my scooter over and later said she was glad I had had a garbage bag in the basket because she needed to put it over the seat back in order to ride it home.

Near as we could guess is that the people who took the scooter had a first floor apartment because getting it up the stairs would have extremely difficult.  Plus, DF and D's daughter looked around the entire complex for it and couldn't find it which tells me that they put it right into their apartment to hide it.  Then, when they realized they needed a key to actually go anywhere on it, they tried to trash it.

People everywhere need to realize that a Mobility Scooter is not a toy; is a a valuable mode of transportation for those who have no other way to get from place to place and an invaluable key to independence for those who have difficulty walking because of arthritis, cerebral palsy, spinal cord injury, or any similar injury and who otherwise would have been housebound.  The people like D and I who use scooters need them to keep our independence, and sometimes our sanity.  To have our scooters out of commission for any reason or to have them stolen does more than rob us of transportation, it robs us of our ability to be members of the community.  And it robs of our feelings of safety.

I am not one who ever wishes ill of a person, but I hope with all my heart that whoever took D's scooter gets everything they so richly deserve in life.  That is an old curse I reserve for people who really need cursing. And that person really deserves it.

My Day At School

There are days when you wish you had a greater brain capacity than you do.  Especially when you're an older college student.  Today I had 2 quizzes, well, actually they were more like tests.

Anyway, the first was in Basic Costuming and if I failed that one I really should just curl up and die.  I know as much about costuming and sewing as the instructor. So why am I taking this class?  Because when I took it in my 20s there really wasn't much hands on work, only a lot of history, and because there wasn't even a real costume shop in the department. I wanted to work in a real costume shop on real costumes and get a decent grade because of it, not let my head be filled with nothing. And so far I'm doing pretty good.

As for the other quiz/test, that was in my ASL Linguistics.  Tuesday night (it's a night class) our instructor, KK, comes into class and writes slowly on the board "ASL Linguistics, Thursday, Retake Quiz." We were all flabbergasted.  Apparently we had ALL bombed the quiz.  The rest of the night we reviewed the material covered. So tonight we go in and pretty much everyone else looked like they did okay whereas I struggled with some of the questions.  One I couldn't remember at all even though I studied. Ugh!  I guess I'm going to have to resort to what I did when I was taking Psychology, type out the notes.  It's really the only way I can remember hard material.  I need to get at least a C in this class in order to graduate this Spring.  If this quiz is any indication, I'm in big trouble.

So, we're getting the roof replaced, eh?

Saturday afternoon I got a call from one of our landlords to let me know that a roll-off dumpster will be delivered to our driveway because the handyman will be replacing the roof.  In the middle of February??  Winter??? Odd time of year for us, but okay.  Lucky for us we're having our January thaw in February.  The temperature is 58°F  (or 14°C for my non-U.S. friends) this Wednesday evening and is suppose to reach 72°F (22°C) tomorrow afternoon, so we're good.  Such a change from last week when we had a high temperature one day of just 0°F (-18°C). BRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

So anyway, the dumpster arrives and it's smack dab in the middle of the driveway, and a little over 3 feet from the garage door.  The handyman said he made sure it was back far enough so D & I could get out with our mobility scooters, though from our viewpoint we couldn't.  Okay, fine, we'll cope.  We don't like it, but we'll cope.

So the handyman's working on the roof, alone, which means the job is gonna take longer than it should. Ugh! The forecast calls for rain on Saturday. I just hope that if he's not finished that he will have the intelligence to put tarps over the exposed areas of the roof or next thing we know we'll have water coming in everywhere. Not a prospect I have in mind especially if any of the computers get wet. We would have them buying us new one's so fast their heads will start spinning.

Unfortunately the placement of the dumpster has caused a bit of a problem.  Like I said, it's abut 3 feet from the garage door and no room for our scooters to get out of the garage... or so we thought.  After the dumpster arrived D, who has a history of panic attacks, started having them.  She couldn't figure out why, though.  Maybe it was the handyman being on the roof because she has a problem with people moving around over her head on upper floors, who knows.  Finally she decided she needed to get out but she couldn't and that's when it hit us.  She was blocked in, trapped in the house.  Because of that she was panicking.  Finally I figured out that yes we could get out. It would take a little maneuvering, but we could get out.

So M got the scooters out for us and D & I went downtown with our laptops to go sit at our favourite Tea shop, drink tea and work on homework.  Unfortunately the tea shop closed sometime since the last time we were in last spring. Frack! We needed someplace with a Wi-Fi hotspot.  Then D suggested Borders Books, they have a cafe and Wi-Fi. Cool!  D worked on her final project which was due tonight while I tried to do my homework. I failed partially because I was helping D.  Oh well, it happens.  And we had a good time as a result.

It's interesting how innocuous things in life spur you on to do something else that you've neglected for a while.  D & I haven't been able to Girl's Night Out in quite a while.  Either we were both too busy with our studies, or the weather didn't allow, or the Padowan needed attention, or something else.  Because of the roof replacement D needed to get out which forced us to figure out how to get us out and away from the house to somewhere that wasn't the grocery store or Padowan's school. And for me somewhere besides school and community choir rehearsal.  We'd fallen into a rut and needed to be shaken loose.  I just wish it didn't necessitate D having a panic attack to shake us out of the rut.

BLIZZARD, Feburary 2011

Yesterday I was in class when I got a text from the college saying that the college was closing a 5pm. There were ice warnings all over the place and in some spots K-10, the highway between Topeka and Overland Park had been closed due to accidents where people had forgotten how to drive in icy conditions.  Choir wasn't canceled, just abbreviated and folks were told to stay home if they thought they couldn't make it to rehearsal safely.

By about 6:oo this morning we had just a light dusting of snow with a thin layer of ice underneath.  My Darling Fiance (DF) had just gotten a job and is doing training all this week so he had to go in to continue training this morning.  I wasn't happy about him going in, but if he didn't he'd have lost the job.  The company isn't known for their compassion when the weather threatens people's safety.  The last time the company actually closed and told workers to go home was at least 5 years ago for an ice storm that left over 1 inch of ice on everything.  Took over an hour to chip enough ice off the cars to just get in them. Nevermind trying to see out the windshield.

So now we have a blizzard.  National Weather Service says, "Snow will remain moderate to heavy at times through this afternoon with significant accumulation expected. Winds will combine with the snow, frequently decreasing visibility to 1/2 mile or less. Periods of near zero visibility will occur at times, particularly in parts of east central Kansas. Strong north winds will also bring dangerous wind chills of -20 to -30 degrees, and cause considerable blowing and drifting of snow through the overnight hours. The combination of heavy snow, reduced visibility, and bitter cold make this a very dangerous winter storm." Yay. (insert sarcasm here) Just what I'm looking forward to, 10-13 inches of snow.  I have no winter boots.  Plus, if I should fall, especially onto my left knee... well... just call 911 cause there's no way I will be getting up.

Here's just a few images of snow at our place. The top two are out the front door and the third is out the back door.  The back door is more protected from the wind so it looks clearer than the others which I took with the wind blowing in my face.

The dog is enjoying the snow, but that's because the squirrels are running around trying to keep warm and find their nuts.

The cats, on the other had, are not very happy.  It's cold and they don't like it.

It's times like these when I wish I was back in Florida, enjoying the sunshine, being able to go swimming in a lovely pool or relax in a lovely hot tub and enjoy the lovely fragrance of Night-blooming Jasmine growing right next to it.  Ahhhh, what bliss!
 Makes me envious of my girlfriend, SEJ, who lives in the St Pete area of Florida.

Blizzards do have a purpose besides making life very inconvenient for people living in the area where it is occurring. They let you know Mother Nature is still in charge.  We may have all the technology in the world, but Nature rules.

Just discovered that our area has had snow accumulation between 8 and 10 inches.  I got a text both from my college and the bus system I take to school that they will both closed again tomorrow.  Good thing I don't have any classes, though I messes up our plans to go to the indoor community pool.  Drats!!

Being a Plus-Size

For those that know me, I am a Plus-Size gal.  The last time I could wear anything under a size 32 was over 25 years ago, and it's not looking like I will ever be wearing anything that size again anytime in the foreseeable future. So what's a girl to do in order to wear good looking, fairly fashionable clothing without looking like a frumpy dowager or a large-size 20-something that thinks she actually looks good and sexy in those tight jeans and t-shirt and never sees the muffin top in between them.  I'm no fashionista but I think I know what looks good.

Being a Plus-Size means I have to look long and hard to find clothing that is fashionable, in good taste, and affordable.  That last one is hard to do though.  I'm on a fixed income and lately have been finding it difficult to pay bills, much less buy clothes.  And on those rare occasions when I actually can get something new I have to consider many different factors before I actually shell out the money.  The main one being durability.  If I can't afford to replace clothing right away it needs to be able to stand up to the wear and tear of daily life.  So flimsy fabrics are out of the question.

So what about dresses?  They're okay, as long as they show some or your shape.  Anyone ever hear of  a muumuu?  That was a dress style made popular in Hawai'i after the missionaries arrived, especially the women missionaries.  God Forbid the native Hawaiian women be caught showing their breasts and inciting the missionary men to have carnal thoughts! Women may not have had the Vote back then, but they sure wielded a lot of power socially.  It was the wives of the ranchers that really tamed the Wild West, not the Remington Rifle.  But I digress.  Missionary women taught the Hawaiian women to sew a style of dress they designed that would cover all the of the body's "naughty bits" and the Hawaiians dubbed it the Muumuu.  Today there are dress styles know as a Float, a Trapeze, and something called "free-and-easy styling" that are all synonymous with the Muumuu: a long (in some cases), flowing dress with no definite shape that can be slipped on over the head.  The only time such dresses should be worn is when one is at home relaxing.

Pants: to my mind they should be avoided at all costs. At least on me. There are some fashionistas that feel that large women can wear pants or trousers and tapered pants at that.  I'm sorry, pants are not something many large women can wear and look good in yet still be comfortable.  And it doesn't help that most of the pants on the market for large women are polyester or poly/cotton knits which show off every bump and bulge no matter how loose fitting.  Large women, as a rule, want to avoid showing off every bump and bulge.  And the fitted waistbands are a joke for a women with a lot of belly fat.  There is absolutely no way to sit comfortably without straining the button on the waistband so much that it will eventually pop off and hit someone or something like in a group of commercials for Subway(r) several years ago where the fly buttons popped off and were sent flying across rooms with comical results.

And don't get me started about leggings. Leggings should be outlawed. Any woman who has legs like mine should not wear leggings. The only women that truly look good in leggings are the ones who's legs are more muscle than fat.  If one has "thunder thighs" like mine then leggings are not a good fashion choice.

When one is plus-size and amply endowed on top, low cut tops that let the breasts spill out are also not a good idea.  A V-neck shirt or top the shows a minimum of cleavage is fine, but you probably want to avoid the hooker look.

Speaking of cleavage that speaks to the type of bra used.  I use to have the hardest time finding a bra that fit because manufacturers usually didn't make them large enough.  Then I stopped wearing them for 5 or 6 years.  When I started wearing one again I found a company that made a bra that was comfortable and in my size.  So when you're shopping for a bra, be sure to measure yourself.  Most places say that you should measure around the top of the bust just under the arms, but that's wrong.  You need to measure around the chest just under the breasts. That measurement is the size of the bra-band.  For your cup size, just try on a bunch of different bras that fit your chest measurement with different cup sizes.  If your breasts spill out of the cup, then it's too small.  If you breasts fill the cups but the cup has gaps and it looks like you could have room for more, then it's too big.  Your breasts should fill the cup without spilling out or leaving gaps.  It may take a while to find the right bra, but when you do you'll be quite happy.

As for other foundation garments (i.e. girdles), that's purely personal choice.  I don't wear them because I don't like feeling like toothpaste being squeezed out of a tube because most foundation garments don't come in my size and are way too tight.  And then there are the bathroom concerns as one gets older and the call of nature can become extremely urgent in a matter of seconds. 

To me, Plus-size clothes should be fairly loose fitting to ensure comfort, fashionable enough to not feel like I'm out of style, and durable enough that I don't have to be constantly replace things.  Stain repellent would be nice, too, because I have a nasty habit of spilling things on myself.

Being a Non-Traditional Student at a Traditional College

There are people in this world who think that when one reaches a certain age the one should just stop learning and either work or live off the government dole.  The Padowan's father believes this is so and he's only in his 40's.  He thinks that he'd be wasting his time if he decided to go back to college.  I'm in my 50's and I don't want work at some dead-end job or just sit around and do nothing for the rest of my life because if I were to do either one of those I would just burn out or stagnate or both, and I don't intend to do either.

I have been taking classes at our local community college in American Sign Language or ASL.  Currently I am in the ASL Studies Certificate program though I will be applying for the Sign Language Interpreter Training program in February.  If I do get in the program I will be starting the program in the fall and attending for another 2 years.  If I don't I will be graduating this Spring.  In any case, I am back at school learning, something we all continue to do throughout our lives. 

As an older student I am finding that while some things are a challenge there are a great many rewards, including the ability to get younger students sit up and take notice when you tell them, indirectly of course, that their idea of the world is skewed by technology.  The majority of students in traditional colleges today all grew up with things that weren't invented when I was their age. (Boy does that sound old and patronizing.)  I was 18 when purely by chance I first saw a car with a phone in it.  Before that car phones were something that was only seen in the movies.  We had computers, but that thing that most of today's students carry in their backpacks use to take up multiple rooms that were the size of 2 average size living rooms.  And cell phones! The very first cell phone call was made just 2 months before I graduated from high school in 1973.

Last semester I was taking an English Writing class and we were reading the book The Glass Castle a memoir written by Jeannette Walls.  We discussed the book in every class and often times the younger students were making observations about the book and comparing it with what they knew, putting their own knowledge and life experiences on what was happening in the book.  But then I would speak and remind them that the time period Jeannette was writing about was vastly different than what it is today.  In the book Walls writes about her experiences growing up poor in the Southwest and in West Virginia.  The beginning of the book starts with a most vivid memory for Walls; she had managed to catch her dress on fire while cooking at age 3.  When she was in the hospital the doctors and nurses all seemed to tap-dance about whether or not to call child welfare.  To the other students it seemed obvious that they should have called because Walls had either been neglected or abused or both.  Then I reminded them that many schools at that time still had corporal punishment and that parents were expected to spank their misbehaving children.  To spank a child in public was not a crime unlike now when a parent could be jailed for just threatening a child.


The point is that having an older student in the class is good for everyone because everyone benefits.  Padowan's father doesn't get it.  I pity him because to him his life is over except for the dying part.  I don't intend to ever think that way.  I expect to live a good, long, learning filled life and I expect one day to go back for even more schooling.  Maybe another Bachelor's degree, then a Master's, and then maybe a Doctorate.  Why not when I expect to live to at least 100.  Maybe longer. Who knows.

Keith is GONE!!!!!

I hadn't been watching my usual MSNBC shows for a while because I don't always control the TV remote so the first I heard about Keith Olbermann leaving the network was from Deb's daughter whom we call Padowan. She told us last Monday, but then we got wrapped up in school and snowstorms and other things in our lives that we forgot to watch.  Sorry Keith. Then I was checking my e-mail and found a link to this video.


As many other reporters and commentators have said, Keith pretty much put MSNBC on the map helping the network became a bastion of liberalism in a vast sea of conservatism. But with Keith no longer with MSNBC that begs the question, who will be the next voice to hoist the ultra conservative jackanapes' by their own petard?  I have no answer to that question.  Except that torch is now passed on to Rachel Maddow, Lawrence O'Donnell, and Ed Schultz.  Let us hope they can carry on and make us, MSNBC, and especially Keith proud.

All I can say is that I am deeply saddened that this is happened.  When I was able to watch I enjoyed Countdown and I always learned something.  Keith was often able to put into words the emotion I felt over some injustice in the the world or some inane situation that was being blown out of proportion.  He pointed out the absurdities in our world and in our politics.  He helped me to see all manner of injustice and gave me ideas as to how change it if possible.  I hope I am a better person because of him.

Keith, if you ever read this, know that you are greatly missed by one small household in Kansas.  Please don't be gone longer than you have to.

Becoming Auntie Mame!

I'm your Auntie Mame!
 
Usually when people hear or see that statement they think of Mame the musical play and which was made into a movie staring Lucille Ball.  But that's not the Auntie Mame of which I speak.  No, no, my Auntie Mame always will be Rosalind Russell in the film Auntie Mame which also star Peggy Cass and a young Roger Smith.

For those who have never seen it, the movie focuses on Mame Dennis, a free spirit who becomes the guardian of her nephew, Patrick Dennis, son of her only brother.  The movie opens on an image of a Will with someone reading it aloud. It is Mame's brother, a staunch conservative, who is providing for his son and who expects to live quite a long time because he exercises everyday at his athletic club.  Then we see a newspaper headline a stating that Mr Dennis, prominent businessman, dropped dead at that same athletic club the day after signing his will.

Patrick and Norah Muldoon, his father's housekeeper, arrive at Mame's apartment in New York City as she is in the midst of a great big party with almost 100 people in attendance. It's October 1st in the year 1929. (History buffs may remember that October 29th of that year was the day of the Stock Market crash starting the Great Depression. But more on that later.)  After Mame flies (almost literally) down the stairs and sees Patrick and Norah she mistakes Norah for a maid come to help and Patrick for Norah's son, but Norah corrects her.  As Mame sets the facts right in her mind she turns to young Patrick and loudly declares, "I'm your Auntie Mame!"  For Mame it's love at first sight and she works to do whatever she can to help broaden Patrick's horizons beyond the narrow confines of the conservative life Patrick's father wanted him to follow.

Mame is a true character who fights to survive rather than letting life run roughshod over her. When the Great Depression hits Mame is suddenly penniless.  She tries a variety of jobs to make ends meet and fails miserably with every one.  At her last job is as a sales lady at Macy's during the Christmas rush she meets her future husband, a millionaire oil baron from Georgia named Beauregard Jackson Pickett Burnside, and it's love at first sight.  Beau opens even more doors for Mame.

After Beau dies suddenly Mame takes on another project.  Patrick arranges for her to have a secretary and a co-writer to help her write her memoirs.   It's at this time when when Patrick finally announces to her that he has found "The Girl" to marry and introduces her to Mame.  The girl, Gloria, is a vain, empty-headed snob who affects posh airs but is no better than the very people she snubs. After meeting Gloria, Mame decides to meet her parents who live in a restricted community in Connecticut.

Gloria's parents are among the nouveaux riches, the new money, those who through luck and happenstance find themselves very rich and who put on affectations of being rich which only serve to annoy the old rich.  Gloria's parents don't understand that those who have had money for several generations don't throw their money in people's faces.  Her parents don't realize that to act rich is to act no different than a person who has less money.  Acting rich is to act as if money doesn't matter.  The old rich know they have money, they just don't trumpet it around.  It's just a means to an end.  The newly rich think they have to flaunt their money to prove others they're rich.  When Mame meets Gloria's parents she realizes that Patrick's trustee has orchestrated the marriage and works to undermine and unravel the trustee's plans.

When Mame's secretary suddenly finds herself pregnant and alone in an era where the unwed mother is scorned and stigmatized, Mame takes her on as another project, encouraging her to take care of herself and her baby.

In the end everything works out and Patrick goes on to marry his true love instead of Gloria the empty-headed blond "with braces on her brains" and Mame goes on to mold a new generation of free thinkers when she takes Patrick's 10-year-old son with her to India for the summer.

I have often said that I wanted to be Auntie Mame; to be that free spirit that helped open doors for young people and help them see that there was more to life than just those things their parents told them.  My favourite line from Auntie Mame is this, "Live!  Live!  Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!"  I may be an aunt, but I'm no Auntie Mame.