Life Is Not a Stage by Florence Henderson (big screen ebook reader .TXT) 📕

told me shortly after we became an item. John had a few marriages and tons of relationships in his past, in stark contrast to my life. But he and I shared a strong attribute: Neither of us had truly known what a healthy relationship was like. He had been more prone to be in that category of people who just ran from one affair to the next, taking the course of least resistance. So many of us have the mentality: Do you want to get married? Yeah, sure. If it doesn’t work out, that’s okay—just move on to the next. With all my faults and failings, one thing you can say about me is that I have never been one to take that path.

For the first time, I was open to somebody loving me, and equally, someone whom I could love back. It wasn’t the old program of trying to get somebody to love me, like forcing blood from a rock. John did love me, and it changed him and me in many profound ways. But it was only the starting point of greater things to come.

A number of people around me were none too happy about this new relationship in my life. Some took the side of the conventional wisdom as earlier stated. Others simply couldn’t believe that I could actually make a change and take such a plunge after so many years. Others just “didn’t get it” (or didn’t want to get it) after meeting John and seeing us together. It had been a daunting time given my history to get up the courage and take my chances. You put so much energy into learning, growing, and trying to solve your major issues. Then, suddenly, you’ve manifested this major change. You are faced with decision time to stand pat or risk it all. You put it out there with absolutely no guarantee that anything else is going to work out.

You would like to have the support and encouragement of your friends and loved ones at such a fork in the road, but that would have been too easy. Some tried to talk me out of it. Others, many of whom also loved Ira, encouraged me to move forward.

One of the things that oddly enough encouraged me to make the decision about leaving Ira was a magazine article I had read. It was written by a woman who was almost in the same situation as I was. She had children and a husband, and she wasn’t happy. She just felt she needed to move on while she still had some time to experiment and enjoy life and find out who she was. She made the decision to leave, but she paid a price for it. She was judged fairly harshly, but she said it was the best thing she ever did. Her story resonated with me.

Dr. Giorgi was probably the biggest thorn in my side about this. She read me the riot act, replete with her lively Bronx inflection. She did not mince her words, adamantly telling me how I was a fool to leave Ira. It turned into a knock-down, drag-out fight.

I barked at her, “You don’t practice the Hippocratic oath—you practice the hypocritic oath!” Afterwards, she barked back at me with a note: “Dearie, you must be hurting very badly to say something like that to me.”

I countered, “You must be hurting very badly to talk to me like that!” We got through it, and not much longer after that, John and she grew very close. She had broken her hip and was hospitalized and very uncomfortable because she was in pain and couldn’t go to the bathroom. John and I visited her, and he hypnotized her to help with her pain and constipation. Before he was even finished with the session, she got up to go to the bathroom.

People who first met John would always remark, “He’s so quiet.” Some might have regarded him as standoffish because he was so comfortable at gatherings, just sitting and watching and observing. He didn’t feel the need to be the life of the party or to fill up the silent space with the noise from his own voice. To those people, I always said, “Just ask him a question.” When people would go over and talk to him, I’d just sit back and watch because the same thing would always happen. Once they started to engage him and he began to talk, they simply would not let him go. He had such tremendous confidence, and he knew how to listen (after all, that’s what he did for a living). It was a contagious combination.

Finally, I had the courage, trust, and confidence in myself that I could have a different (and happier) life. And I had fallen in love. So it was time to sit with Ira and discuss what we were going to do about formally ending our marriage. We got together at Scandia. The restaurant was an ideal neutral ground and semiprivate, with the kind of ambiance and design that made it a home away from home for the high-profile Hollywood types who frequented it. It was almost eerie how easy and comfortable the conversation went. I had spent nearly a whole lifetime dreading the idea of ever having to confront the D-word, and here it was, virtually painless. When the lawyers got involved a short time later, it got a little more complicated, but not much.

Ira and I truly loved each other. I think he wanted me to be happy. And I deeply prayed for his happiness, which I’m happy to say he found with his wife Carol.

It was all very smooth and amicable. I moved out of the house, and Ira continued to live in it for a couple of years before we decided it was time to sell. Our children were all grown up and on their own. Whatever furniture we didn’t need or the kids didn’t want, we gave away. Similarly, our financial holdings