Author: Becky

On birthdays and other things


I always make Rhonda feel REALLY great when I tell her that her birthday–May 4–is the day Jeff died in 1995. Because that’s the kind of friend I am! In actuality, though that time was a dark one, only two years afterward, I met Rhonda online, and here we are thirteen years later, “in real life” friends, as they say, and part of a group of people who enjoy and cherish one another, most of whom I didn’t know existed in 1995. Celebrating Rhonda’s birthday while remembering Jeff reminds me what brilliant experiences and people may await me after bad times. No matter what happens, there’s always hope that eventually, someone could make a Pixie Bear on craft night.

I’m assuming–and I hope I’m right, because I have no cake baked!–that Rhonda will be blowing out candles at The Compound while the Canadians are here. And that’s SO SOON. I hope the jasmine is still blooming for y’all, because I was outside earlier inhaling the aroma. Awesome.


To show that hope really does spring eternal, I also planted some seeds in little pots and in one of the flower beds this morning. If something I planted from a seed actually grows, it’ll be a miracle. Tim has much better luck at that than I ever have–his morning glories I thought were gone forever because of our freezes have come back to stick out their purple tongues at me.

One of the daisies Tim got for The Compound looked especially lovely today. I’m presenting it here as a gift to ‘Nathan, because it’s orange and for another reason I think he’ll understand.

Today is also Star Wars day, which I only discovered last year, I think: May the fourth be with you. Once again, in regard to balance, this reminds me to laugh in spite of the other event that this date signifies: the Kent State shootings in 1970. In February of this year, the site where four students died and nine were wounded was added to the National Register of Historic Places. Usually this doesn’t happen for more than fifty years after an event, but the application offered a compelling case for registering the site. One of the applicants, Kent State Professor Emeritus Jerry Lewis, was acting as a faculty marshall on that spring day in 1970. Today, Amanda provided a link to a radio interview with Dr. Lewis that was really good. Thank you for that, Amanda.

Among the things Dr. Lewis shared was an excerpt from an article written this year by Elaine Holstein. You probably don’t recognize her name, but if you’ve ever read an article about Kent State, you’ve seen her son Jeff Miller in the Pulitzer Prize-winning photo taken of him that day; at age twenty, he lay dead on the ground with an anguished fourteen-year-old girl kneeling next to him, her arms outstretched.

I’d like to repeat the quote from Mrs. Holstein that Dr. Lewis shared:

…once in a while, I wonder about my son Jeff’s future that had so needlessly been cut short.

What would he have been like now, at age 60? What sort of career would he have had? Would he have married? And what about those other grandchildren that my husband and I might have enjoyed?

Now, as I watch the news on TV each night, I deplore the increasing ugliness of politics, and I’m afraid. I know too well what can happen when hatred takes over.

Please, let us lower the volume and be civil toward one another.

For Jeff’s sake. And for all of ours.

Every life has its celebrations and losses, its joys and heartbreaks. I believe each time we’re willing to see that truth in the lives of others, even those from whom we feel different, we make civility more possible–and we nourish our own souls.

Rhonda, your date is a profound one–and this crazy world is better because you’re in it. Happy birthday.

Another of those random “Did you notice I haven’t posted much?” photo posts

I was called for jury duty the other day. I didn’t get picked. I didn’t even get called to a panel for the voire dire process. Several cases were settled and I was among prospective jurors sent home. Doesn’t matter to me whether I serve or not; I’m not a jury duty hater. I was amused when the bailiff made an announcement that someone’s car was in a judge’s space on the third floor of the parking garage and it would behoove that person to move the car ASAP. I guess it’s not good to piss off a judge. It’s also apparently a bad idea to piss off a veterinarian.

I shot that photo when Tim and I played fashion photographer to some Scout’s Honor dogs last week. They were saved from death row and OMG, CUTEST DOGS EVER. If you want to see some of their happy faces, check out the Scout’s Honor Flickr group where we share their photos. I’m assuming at least some of them, along with other great dogs, will be available at this weekend’s Scout’s Honor Adoption Day in the Heights, Saturday, May 1, from 10am to 3pm, at 1128 Heights Boulevard (between 11th and 12th Streets), Houston.

Just to entice you, a favorite of my photos:


Brew, totally posing for Tim.

April 28 is the birthday of my late friend Steve R, and as I have every year since he died, I enjoyed chocolate cake with friends. That’s what he did on his last birthday in the hospital in 1992, and I love honoring his life each year with the laughter and good feelings that exist among friends. The group around the table may change from year to year, but he’s always remembered.

However, I think you should know that anticipation can lead to jazz hands:


Kathy S, Tim, and Lindsey

Among our Christmas gifts from my sister Debby was a beautiful fantasy puzzle that Tom finished last week with very little help from the rest of us (although Lindsey, puzzle hater, did place three pieces, and I swooped in when all the hard work was done and found some key pieces to make myself look clever):

I shot this photo before I took it apart. I’m sending it and the Lord of the Rings puzzle we got last year from Rob E to Debby for her to do while recovering from back surgery. Because back surgery is not torturous enough. =) Get well soon to my favorite sister!

LJ Runway Monday: The Finale, Part 2 (PR 7:14)

On the most recent episode of Lifetime’s Project Runway, the remaining three designers showed their final collections at Bryant Park, and the winner was chosen by the judges. Tonight’s the night I promised to share my final collection for this season, but…I’m not presenting a runway collection.

To explain, I have to go back a few months and share a letter I received from my model muse, Summer. You know, the strawberry blonde who’s vexed me by being too busy to model any of my designs this season.

Dear Becks [Summer writes],

Almost two years ago, I was invited to a fun party at the Manhattan apartment of another Mattel Top Model, Figaro. You may not remember her. She modeled for Mark G. Harris. I’m kidding! No one forgets Figaro.

Figaro can be a little sketchy when she introduces people, so I wasn’t surprised when she shoved me toward a stranger and gave me only his first name–Walt. What did surprise me was the way Walt and I clicked from the start. I definitely wasn’t looking for a relationship. While trying to fit in or finish college classes among all the bookings I was getting, I didn’t have a lot of time for a boyfriend. But after we talked and flirted all night at Figaro’s party, I gave Walt my phone number, and every time I was in the city, we managed to get together.

Figaro knows the most diverse set of people, from princes to paupers, and I got the idea that since Walt is a freelance wildlife photographer, not a fashion photographer, that he didn’t make a lot of money. It didn’t matter to me. I thought he was funny, interesting, handsome, and sexy. I deliberately chose places to meet that would be casual (and cheap!), and I hoped that Figaro or one of their mutual friends wouldn’t tell him the kind of money a top model pulls in.

Imagine my surprise when I found out that “Walt” is Mason Walters Cabot IV. Even if a IV behind three last names isn’t daunting enough, who hasn’t heard of the New England tycoon Mason Walters Cabot III? Figaro actually knows Walt because Barbie–who’s also modeled for you–frequently dates Walt’s father (Walt’s mother died several years ago). Although Walt’s an only child, over time, I’ve met his extended family and his father, and they’re all more likely to be found in shorts and Topsiders on the deck of a boat–okay, a yacht–than flaunting an affluent lifestyle. They’re what my dad calls “just plain folk.” I adore them all and enjoyed being welcomed into their family.

Still, I’m glad Walt knows I fell in love with him when I thought he was an impoverished photographer. In fact, I’m so in love with him, when he asked me to marry him, I really wanted to say yes. But I explained to him that several of my fellow models and I made a promise about not getting married. We work with so many gay people in the industry, and have many gay and lesbian friends, and it seems wrong to get married when our friends and colleagues don’t have the right to make that same civil commitment and get the same legal protections.

Walt was disappointed, but he understood why this mattered to me. He not only respected my decision, he agreed with me. I graduated, and we started looking for a place to live together. This didn’t exactly thrill my parents, and believe it or not, they were the ones who came up with a solution. Why not get married in Iowa, a state that extends the right to marry without regard to the gender of the two adults involved?

It made perfect sense! We found out we didn’t have to be residents of Iowa to marry there. As anyone knows, weddings are costly–especially weddings between super models and sons of tycoons with family and friends who come from all over the country. We could thank Iowa for being fair and forward thinking by contributing our wedding dollars to the state’s economy!

So the wedding is on, and that means I need you! I know you have a friend in Iowa who can help us find the perfect spot for our wedding, which we want to have outside. And during the next Runway Monday season, you can help me feed misinformation about my whereabouts and social life to the press, so we don’t end up with a bunch of tabloids and paparazzi turning our wedding into a circus. And finally, there’s no one who I’d rather design my wedding dress and the dresses of my bridal party than you–since Runway Monday-winning designers Timothy J. Lambert and Mark G. Harris seem to have retired. Kidding again!

I promise not to turn into a bridezilla on you, but I do have some requests. No pastels, especially pink or peach. I like more autumnal colors. I’d prefer silks and maybe taffeta. I guess tulle is acceptable, but no lace. And no matchy-matchy dresses on my attendants. Here are a few specifics of what I want.

See the rest of Summer’s ideas for wedding attire and photos of my designs behind this cut.

Earth Day at The Compound

Just a few photos to show that I’m trying to nurture the little bit of earth that’s been entrusted to me–or at least add a few small efforts to all the work over the years from Tom, Tim, James, Lynne, my mother, Kathy S, Lindsey, Rhonda, Steve V, Princess Patti, Sarena, and other friends. I’m so inept at gardening that at The Compound, it takes a village.

Please click here if you’d like to see.

An Eyeroll Moment

Just saw this tag on a link to photos of Sandra Bullock: It’s hard to catch a Sandra Bullock sighting in the aftermath of [stupid scandal reference redacted]. See pics of the beautiful starlet.

STARLET? The woman has been in many commercially successful and critically acclaimed films with a worldwide gross of over three billion dollars, she’s one of the wealthiest women in her profession, her humanitarian efforts are well-documented, and she’s been nominated multiple times and won Golden Globe and Oscar awards.

Exactly what does she have to do to stop being called a “starlet?”