picnic

It's been a strange last couple of weeks. On the day my mother broke her hip, Anna Nicole Smith exited this life. Her death kicked off an even bigger media circus than the buxom, none-too-bright blonde ever did in life.

I pity the poor little baby girl caught in the middle of all this. Does anybody connected with this case really have that baby's best interests in heart? And how many other guys are going to join the line claiming to be her daddy?

Now Britney Spears, herself the mother of two little boys, has gone and shaved her head and gotten a couple of new tattoos.

She's been partying like it's 1999 ever since dumping her talentless leech of a hubby, K-Fed. I never thought Mr. Federline could look like a model of respectability, but Britney's antics - endless hours of partying, throwing up in limos, stripping down with club dancers, et al. - aren't adding up to &#8220Mother of the Year” status for the tarnished pop star.

All this celebrity (mis)behavior got me thinking.

I'm glad I have a normal life. I'm not rich, I'm not famous. Photographers aren't stalking my every move. I'm not one of the &#8220beautiful people.”

Thank God.

What I do have are people who truly love me for me, and a support system of family and friends, qualities that seem sadly lacking in the lives of people like Anna Nicole and Britney.

I keep thinking, why doesn't Britney's mom or dad or grandmother or somebody who truly loves her, step in, take her hand and say, &#8220You are a person worth saving and you are the mother of two beautiful boys. For their sakes and for yours, let's get a grip on things, honey.”

Thank heavens my mom and dad always took responsibility for me and my sisters.

My family is like most families; we're imperfect and we don't always see eye to eye. Yet I know if I need help they will be there for me, and vice-versa. And it you can claim the same, thank your lucky stars, too.

Mama is at Crowne Health Care in Greenville now, undergoing rehab, trying to rebuild her strength and literally get back on her feet.

It's no fun having to undergo all that physical therapy. I remember my therapist grinning evilly at me after my knee surgery years ago and reminding me PT actually stands for &#8220Pain and Torture.” I was a relatively fit 33.

My mom is 82, battling several forms of arthritis and other health problems. She is just plain tired of being down for the count. Still, she seems to be slowly but surely progressing through the PT and settling in at the nursing home.

 It's not the same as home, of course. However, it is a place where she is never alone and nursing care is only a few steps away. The nursing home keeps us notified of any changes in medication or any potential problems; I can also drop by any time for a visit.

And friends and family have been sending her cards and notes, making visits and phone calls, bringing gifts; reminding her she may be away from her routine, but certainly not forgotten.

Mama loves pink, so I've tried to &#8220pink” things up for her: a cozy pink robe and non-slip slippers for exercising; an ultra-soft fleece throw to keep her warm, a squishy pillow for Mama's stiff neck and a pink and purple stuffed puppy, just because it would make her smile.

As much as my sisters and I would like to, we can't take away her pain and frustration, but we can make her as comfortable as possible. We can let her know we truly, deeply love her, cherish her and want the best for her.

Those essentials for life are what a lot of the &#8220beautiful people” seem to be lacking.

Angie Long is Lifestyles reporter for The Greenville Advocate. She can be reached at 382-3111 ext. 132 or via email at angie.long@greenvilleadvocate.com.