Tuesday
A stunning, disastrous day.
I was sitting at my computer in my office in Beverly Hills
looking out at the palm trees waiting for a conference call from
some nice people, and then the thought occurred to me to call my
pal K. There is hardly anyone on this planet who has been more kind
and helpful to me than K. Al and Sally Burton are in the same
plane, and so is Phil, and my sister and of course, my wife, but K.
really changed my life in a huge way out here.
I called him in Arizona, where he has been sitting by the
sickbed of his wife, also named K. His wife has been in the ICU for
three weeks (or had been). She was sick unto death (as it turned
out) from four-plus decades of alcoholic behavior, severe drug
abuse, lack of nutrition, lack of sleep. She had collapsed and been
taken to a hospital. For the first 10 days or so, she was on a
ventilator. That is a machine that breathes for you, and it is only
used when the patient is extremely ill.
She had gotten off that and seemed to be recovering, but then
she stopped eating and K., the husband, was sitting by her bed
holding her hand and praying with her.
So, I called him on his cell. He sounded ominously sad.
“What’s happened?” I asked him. “Why do you sound like
this?”
“K. passed away last night,” he said. “Her body just gave out.
She’s gone.”
Then we both began to cry, and although the call went on for
almost an hour (I had to join the conference call late), it all
seems like a blur now.
K., the deceased wife, is the third close friend I have had “die
on me,” as the horrible phrase goes, from drugs and alcohol. I hate
it. I hate drugs and alcohol.
I first met K., or “Konnie” as we called her, in 1976 when I met
her husband. I met him through my pal Steve Greene, who had an
enormous positive influence on my life in every possible way. At
the time, the husband was a major “macher” in Hollywood. He knew
everyone and could Get Things Done. He had come out of nowhere and
was so successful in his work that he literally had plays written
about him. Famous, well-known plays.
Konnie was a well-to-do Hollywood wife. She had the perfect
hair, the perfect car, the perfect home, furniture, appliances —
perfect Hollywood.
But I don’t think that says who she is. She was a genuine
person. She was not a West Side leftist phony. She cooked for
Jewish holidays. She cared for her son and her dogs on a deep
level. She was witty and always had a joke. She remembered all
birthdays with marvelous, artistic, handmade cards.
Alex and I spent so many New Year’s Eves, Thanksgivings,
Christmases, Passovers, with K. and K. that it was a custom. The
food was always great and K. was a wizard of a hostess.
There were just a few little problems.
Konnie was often in a bad mood, and so she took powerful
psychoactive meds. She did not feel quite right from them, so she
took powerful alcohol. That didn’t fully work, so she took every
other drug under the sun, and soon she was a full-blown drug
abuser. And that went on for decades.
Larry | 6.1.11 @ 7:52AM
Ben, you are easily one of the most delightfully interesting, zestfully alive and, well ... kindest people I've ever encountered (unless your columns are all just affected which, even though you are an actor, I really rather doubt). You seem to actually really care about others ... and allow them to care for you. How rare and wonderful that is ... real friendships, I mean the kind that weave lives and fates together are so rare. Especially today, but you seem to have an abundance of them. That says a lot about you. Thanks for sharing your very interesting life (and something of yourself) with us. Its a LOT of fun and I feel all the richer for it.
Tomas| 6.1.11 @ 4:45PM
Ben, reading your essays is like spending time with a dear friend... sitting next to the fire (or next to the grill), sharing stories that make us smile. They may not always be funny stories, but they are always gentle and kind.
Thank you.
-
roadmaster| 6.1.11 @ 8:24AM
Ben, your description of your addictions and depression could be mine - to a "T" - I've been sober for almost 23 years now, and away from drugs 10 years longer than that. Unfortunately, I went through many years as a miserable, dry drunk and it was only in the last 10 years that I found the Peace of Jesus Christ.
Now I am healthier in mind and body than I've ever been and I attribute that to the healing of the
Spirit.
Thanks for sharing.
L. Ross| 6.1.11 @ 8:33AM
Ben, usually enjoy your columns. Hate to break it to you, but sir, you are rich. I know, 'cause I make a lot more money than average and couldn't dream of having your lifestyle. That being said, don't be ashamed of being rich.
Dan Hirsch| 6.1.11 @ 8:51AM
Ben;
Rich is not in your wallet, it is in your head. Anyone who thinks, as you do, that what you have is more than enough, is basically rich.
So if Bill Gates did not feel that he had enough money, he would not be rich, billions in his wallet or not. The greeter at the Walmart smiling and laughing who walks to work and lives in a studio apartment and is happy with that is rich, too.
President Obama? He's not rich, he's poor. Just watch how he relishes the perks of that job he has.
Remember how Bill Clinton really, really did not want to leave the White House in January of 2001? Poor, that one, I guess.
It's up to you whether you are rich or poor.
Me, I'm real rich.
ray bob| 6.1.11 @ 9:14AM
another beautiful day above room temperature and living in the gracious and green USA. I try to thank God everyday for these gifts and my family.
ShortNSweet| 6.1.11 @ 9:59AM
Ben,
It is incredibly refreshing to see a man with your wealth to be as kind, and caring as you. As I read your diaries I constantly see that you are human, just like the average American. I think that's rare for wealthy people; they seem so out of touch, and the most UNcaring. Though I am the farthest thing from rich, in the eyes of the world, I am wealthy, in that I have an amazingly close and very large family, and friendships as deep as the sea and a relationship with God through Christ, my Savior. I almost feel that I know you, from your words, and I so appreciate your sincere kindness, and caring for others. It's an awesome quality, and in your position, I admire it even more. The most important quality that you portray is your love and fear of God. Thanks Ben, for sharing your life with us. May God bless you now and always.
Wally| 6.1.11 @ 12:57PM
God Bless Ben Stein.
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Ore Gone| 6.1.11 @ 1:05PM
Thanks once again for a great article. There is always something to be taken from it and it seems we all have had a turn at some addiction at one time or another. It is easy to see from your writings when you are in the dumps and when you are not. I also believe in the philosophy that I would rather drive an extra 10 miles to give my money to a merchant that is nice to me than a mean spirited person. It isn't that hard to be nice to people and it makes everyone feel better. Thanks again, Ben.
Steve A| 6.1.11 @ 1:47PM
Nice work Ben. Well thought & well written.
Strudwick Wickerwire| 6.1.11 @ 3:39PM
As bad as reality can be, it's better than those 3D goggles that drugs and alcohol force you to look through and a lot cheaper too... I'm not drinking anymore and I LIKE IT!!!
Jane Aderhold| 6.1.11 @ 9:02PM
Not only do I enjoy your essays, I've gotten my sons to like your work. You are an inspiration for many. Your wit, intelligence and decency are the kind of values I like to pass on to them.
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weddingdresses | 6.27.11 @ 4:59AM
As bad as reality can be, it's better than those 3D goggles that drugs and alcohol force you to look through and a lot cheaper too... I'm not drinking anymore and I LIKE IT!!!
Skip G.| 8.1.11 @ 8:36PM
Ben,
I like friendly people too. Thats why I returned to my small Missouri hometown years ago, and I am enjoying a wonderful life.
You and I think alike...how nice to discover your diary!
God bless