July 17, 2006
I read today in a health report in the LA Times, that if 70 is in the rear-view mirror, which it is, I shouldn’t feel guilty if I’m skipping the gym, the daily workout on the tennis court, the few laps in the swimming pool, practice drives at my home-built driving range, or the jog in the park.
Well that’s a relief to know. Since Judge Gold took away my dream mortgage-free home nearly five years ago in order to pay his cronies in family court out of the escrow, keep a celebrity happy (Lynn Redgrave, my wife) to help grease his way to becoming a celebrity private judge specializing in celebrity divorces, I have been unable to do any of those things any more.
Uninvited, unwelcome and unbearable pictures spring to my mind. My lighted tennis court (built with fake Wimbledon grass by Jack Kramer’s son), my designer solar-heated swimming pool with a diving board, a jacuzzi, a slide and rocky waterfalls, and, yes, my English snooker table, where the exercise was admittedly less robust.
I played at Junior Wimbledon in 1947 and 1948, an admirer of the recently departed Ted Schroeder, who introduced the tee-shirt to center court, and Jaroslav Drobny, the left-handed googly server, whom I tried to emulate.
My billiards background was revived with the gift of my antique Burroughs and Watts 12 foot table from my wife. Back in my Just William touring days, when I’d practice alone at local YMCA’s, I got my birthday wish to speak to Joe Davis on the radio when I was interviewed by Ronnie Waldman, as the guest du jour on the BBC’s Monday Night at Eight, and to pose playing billiards with Sir Harry Lauder for the newspapers in Glasgow. I also played in the boys billiards championships at Leicester Square Hall, and my golfing life included rounds at Hoylake, only ten miles from Liverpool, while we performed at the Empire.
Now the Health section tells me I am doing just fine walking down the outside steps to my office, doing the dishes by hand, sweeping the leaves, washing the car, collecting the mail. Thus “Puttering my way to a Ripe Old Age”.
Nice to know. Thanks.
Meanwhile, I’m sure that the much younger Michael Katleman, fellow DGA member, who took my home away from me, is enjoying himself. He paid just one and a quarter million dollars, which is what the Family Court sold my home for just after 9/11, and kept some of my possessions left behind. He should be in great health, and will maintain the “smile of victory” on his face for a long long time.
July 17, 2006