The music I played on my piano was my last link to my late husband. But cruel neighbors shattered that joy with a hurtful message on my wall. When my granddaughter found out, she made things right, leaving those entitled neighbors scratching their heads.
“Oh, Jerry, did you love it today, darling?” I asked softly, the last notes of “Clair de Lune” filling my cozy living room as my fingers lifted from the ivory piano keys. My eyes fixed on the framed photo of my late husband, Jerry. His kind eyes seemed to twinkle back at me, just as they had for over fifty years of our marriage…
Willie, my tabby cat, stretched lazily near my feet, purring contentedly. I reached down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the familiar ache in my chest as I carefully lifted Jerry’s photo.
“I miss you so much, darling. It’s been five years, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
Pressing a gentle kiss to the cool glass, I whispered, “Time for dinner, my love. I’ll play your favorite before bed, okay? ‘Moon River,’ just like always.”
As I set the frame back down, I could almost hear Jerry’s warm chuckle. “You spoil me, Bessie,” he’d say, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I shuffled towards the kitchen, pausing to look back at the piano, my constant companion these past 72 years.
“What would I do without you?” I murmured, running my hand along its polished surface.
That night, as I lay in bed, I whispered into the darkness, “Goodnight, Jerry. I’ll see you in my dreams.”
The next morning, I was lost in Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat major” when a sharp rap on my window startled me. My fingers stumbled, the music cutting off abruptly.
A red-faced man glared at me through the glass. He was my new neighbor.
“Hey, lady!” he shouted, his voice muffled. “Cut out that racket! You’re keeping the whole neighborhood awake with your pathetic plinking!”
I stared at him, shocked. “I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, even as a small voice in my head protested. It was barely 11 a.m., and none of my other neighbors had ever complained before.
The man stomped away, leaving me trembling. I closed the lid of the piano, my sanctuary suddenly feeling tainted.
The next day, I closed all the windows before sitting down to play. The music felt muffled and constrained, but I hoped it would keep the peace.
I was barely ten minutes into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” when my doorbell rang insistently. With a heavy heart, I answered it.
A woman with pinched features glared at me. “Listen here, old lady,” she spat. “The grave’s calling, and you’re still banging on that piano? Cut the noise, or I’ll report you to the HOA!”
It was only then that I understood she was my new neighbor’s wife.
I felt like I’d been slapped. “I… I closed all the windows,” I said weakly.
“Well, it’s not enough!” she snapped, turning on her heel. “Quit making noise with your stupid piano!”
I slumped against the door frame, tears welling in my eyes. “Oh, Jerry,” I whispered. “What do I do?”
I could almost hear his voice, gentle but firm. “You play, Bessie. You play your heart out. Don’t stop… for anyone.”
But as I sat at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys, I couldn’t bring myself to press down.
Days passed, and I tried everything. I taped cardboard over the windows, played only in short bursts, even considered moving the piano to the basement where it might not be heard.
But nothing seemed to satisfy my new neighbors, the Grinches, as I’d started calling them in my head.
The thought of being separated from my cherished instrument, even by a flight of stairs, made my heart ache. This piano wasn’t just an object; it was an extension of my soul, a living connection to Jerry and our life together.
Forgetting about those bothersome neighbors for a moment, I lost myself in the music as I played the piano that night.
The next morning, I stepped outside to tend to my small herb garden. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
The cruel words “SHUT UP!” were spray-painted across the wall in angry red letters.
I sank to my knees and wept. “Jerry, I can’t do this anymore.”
That day, for the first time in decades, I didn’t touch my piano.
As night fell, I sat in Jerry’s armchair, clutching his photo. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”
The shrill ring of the telephone startled me from my thoughts. I fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Mom? It’s me,” my son Jacob’s warm voice filled the line. “How are you doing?”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Oh, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a quiet day at home.”
There was a pause. “Mom, you don’t sound fine. Is everything alright?”
I sighed, debating whether to burden him with my troubles. “It’s nothing, really. Just… some issues with the new neighbors.”
“Issues? What kind of issues?”
I found myself spilling everything… the complaints, the threats, the vandalism.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, honey. I feel so… lost.”
“Oh, Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have helped.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. You have your own life, your own problems.”
“Mom, you’re never a burden. Never. Your music has brought joy to so many people over the years. Remember all those Christmas parties? The school recitals you played for? You’re not a nuisance… you’re a treasure.”
“Listen, I’m going to call Melissa. She’s closer. Maybe she can come check on you. And we’ll figure this out together, okay?” Jacob finished.
As I hung up the phone, I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t alone in this after all.
Days crawled by. My piano sat untouched, gathering dust. I felt like a part of me was withering away.
One evening, a loud knock startled me from my melancholy. I opened the door to find my granddaughter Melissa standing there, her face glowing with a warm smile.
“Surprise, Nana!” she exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug.
As she pulled back, her eyes widened in horror. “Nana, who did this to your wall?”
I burst into tears, the whole story spilling out between sobs. Melissa’s expression darkened with each word.
“Oh, Nana,” she said softly, leading me to the couch. “How dare they do this to you? Did you report them?”
“I didn’t want to make a fuss. It’s just… it’s been so hard, sweetie. That piano, it’s all I have left of your grandpa.”
Melissa’s eyes filled with tears. “I know, Nana. We’ll fix this, I promise.”
“How?” I asked, feeling hopeless. “They hate my music. They hate me.”
Melissa took my hands in hers, her grip firm and reassuring. “They can shove their hatred up their butts, Nana. They don’t even know you. These entitled brats are about to learn what happens when you mess with the wrong pianist!”
The next day, Melissa was a whirlwind of activity. She made calls, ordered some supplies, and even enlisted the help of some neighbors I’d known for years.
“Nana, we’re going to teach those Grinches a lesson about respect.”
That evening, Melissa set up small speakers around the Grinches’ property, carefully hidden in the boxwood bushes under their windows.
When their car pulled into the driveway, she winked at me. “Show time, Nana!”
As soon as the Grinches disappeared inside, soft piano music began to play from the hidden speakers, barely audible at first. They rushed out, looking confused. Then suddenly, the music changed to a medley of barking dogs and car alarms.
I couldn’t help but giggle as I watched them run around, trying to find the source of the noise.
Melissa grinned triumphantly. “And now, for the grand finale,” she said, pressing a red button on a remote control-like device.
The air was filled with the most ridiculous assortment of fart sounds I’d ever heard. I doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down my face.
“Melissa!” I gasped between giggles. “You’re terrible!”
She hugged me tight. “Nobody messes with my Nana. Besides, a little harmless payback never hurt anyone.”
As we watched the Grinches frantically searching their yard, I was pleased. “Thank you, sweetheart,” I said softly. “For reminding me to stand up for myself.”
The next morning, a crew arrived at my house. To my amazement, they began converting my piano room into a state-of-the-art soundproof studio.
“Now you can play whenever you want, Nana,” Melissa said, squeezing my hand. “No one will ever tell you to stop again.”
As the workers finished up, I sat down at my newly polished piano. My fingers trembled as they touched the keys, but as soon as I began to play, it was like coming home.
The familiar strains of “Moon River” filled the air, and I closed my eyes, feeling Jerry’s presence all around me.
“That’s my girl,” I could almost hear him say. “Play on, Bessie. Play on.”
Melissa danced around the room, a glass of wine in hand. “You rock, Nana!” she cheered. “Grandpa would be so proud.”
As the last notes faded away, I turned to her with tears in my eyes. “Thank you, sweetheart. You’ve given me back my voice.”
“No, Nana,” Melissa said, kneeling beside me. “You’ve always had your voice. I just helped you remember how to use it.”
All too soon, it was time for Melissa to leave. As we stood in the driveway, waiting for her taxi, she handed me the remote control-like device.
“Just in case those Grinches act up again,” she winked. “One press, and it’s fart city. But I don’t think you’ll need it. The whole neighborhood’s got your back now, Nana!”
I hugged her tightly. “I love you so much, Melissa. Thank you for everything.”
“I love you too, Nana. Promise me you’ll keep playing, no matter what anyone says.”
“I promise,” I said, my voice strong and sure.
As I watched the taxi disappear down the street, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my son: “How are you doing, Mom? Melissa told me everything. I’m so proud of you. Love you. ”
I smiled, tears pricking my eyes as I typed back: “I’m doing better than I have in weeks. Thank you for being there for me. I love you too. ”
Turning back to my house, I could have sworn I saw Jerry standing near the piano, arms wide open, beckoning me to play.
I wiped away a stray tear of joy and walked inside, closing the door behind me. The piano was waiting, and this time, nothing would stop me from playing.
As my fingers touched the keys, I felt whole again. The music swelled, filling every corner of my home and my heart. And somewhere, I knew Jerry was listening, smiling, and dancing along.
“This one’s for you, my love,” I whispered, as the melody of our favorite song carried me away. “And for our family, who never gave up on me!”
The notes of “Moon River” floated through the air. As I played, I felt stronger than ever, surrounded by the love of those who mattered most, both here and beyond.
The sultry Heather Thomas of ‘The Fall Guy’ struggled with addiction – but look at her now, at 66
Heather Thomas, who turned 66 on September 8, was well-known for her leading part opposite Lee Majors in The Fall Guy and was expected to have a very successful Hollywood career.
However, the stunning blonde hurried to the hospital, thinking her father had an emergency, when the actor’s mother appeared on set during the filming of the show’s conclusion.
She was informed by her relatives and friends who met her at the Santa Monica hospital that her father, Leon, was doing well and that they were worried about her.
This was only the start of a new adventure for the 28-year-old woman, whose job and personal life had totally changed as a result of her hospital stay.
Discover what became of the 1980s pinup girl by continuing to read!
With a natural beauty and ability comparable to that of Farrah Fawcett and Heather Locklear, Heather Thomas pursued her passion.
When the girl was just 14 years old, she presented the talk show Talking with a Giant on NBC, where she and four other teenagers conducted celebrity interviews.
Thomas, now 66, studied theater and cinema at UCLA with the goal of advancing her career as an actor, director, and writer. The year before she graduated, she made an appearance in the short-lived comedy series Co-Ed Fever (1979).
The Connecticut-born performer landed her first major part in 1980 in the television series The Fall Guy, supporting Lee Majors, who became well-known throughout the world in the 1970s for his portrayal of Steven Austin in The Six Million Dollar Man.
As the popular action show’s stuntwoman-bounty hunter Jody Banks, Thomas was adored by men who saw her as a sex symbol—a label about which she acknowledges she feels conflicted.
Thomas told People that there was “obligatory condescension that goes with that.” “The blonde bimbo is a stereotype that you fit into. But I was simply enjoying myself at the moment.
Regretfully, she was enjoying herself excessively when using drugs, a tendency that predates her portrayal of Jody Banks.
Her history with drugs began in the sixth grade, when she began abusing narcotics to keep her grades at the top. “I was taking acid and getting straight As,” Thomas declared. I simply believed it to be mind-blowing.
Her drug use changed as her mentality matured from that of a child to an adult.
Thomas began taking cocaine while she was a student at UCLA, and her drug use worsened in 1981, a year after she started filming The Fall Guy.
Additionally, the 5-foot-7 Thomas developed an obsession with weight and began taking Lasix, a diuretic that may produce extreme sleepiness, feeling as though she had to live up to her reputation as a sex symbol.
She took additional cocaine to give her an energy boost in order to combat the sluggishness.
“At first, I was still getting used to the medicine. I thought I was receiving a good deal on my purchase. She asserted that she had never used cocaine on site and that it had allowed her to work through the night. It is not permitted to use cocaine on sets. It’s no longer clubby to carry it out. It’s merely a personal torment.
A person close to the performer told People that her drug usage was hurting her career, despite her statements to the contrary. According to the source, “word was out on Heather.” “People were aware of her issue.”
Between takes, Thomas’s weight plummeted from 125 to 105 pounds and he was fast asleep. Thomas said, “I was in a minicoma sometimes.”
Subsequently, she fainted in front of Majors, who subsequently contacted her manager and her mother.
Her mother, Gladdy Ryder, a former special education teacher, showed up on the set of The Fall Guy to tell her daughter that her father was in the hospital after the series finale concluded.
The writer of “Trophies” hurried to St. John’s Hospital, where she was welcomed by relatives and friends who were prepared to have her admitted into the three-week drug program.
Thomas remarked of that day, “It was a big relief to me.” She also mentioned that she had pneumonia, scarred lungs, and swollen kidneys when she checked into detox. “I wanted to get off the roller coaster I’d been on.” I most likely would have continued on my merry way till I lost my job or passed away if my family hadn’t stepped in.
“The doctors said I should have died three years ago,” she continued.
Thomas, who was dedicated to her recovery, surrounded herself with people who shared her values and would help her achieve her drug-free objectives. That’s when Allan Rosenthal, a co-founder of Cocaine Anonymous, and 28-year-old Thomas first met. She later got married to him and filed for divorce in September 1986.
She was hit by a car while crossing the street that same month, severely injuring both of her legs.
Following her detox, divorce, and surgery to heal severe damage to one leg, Thomas resumed her career, albeit in minor roles in TV shows. She also starred in movies including the 1987 movie Cyclone and the 1990 Canadian movie Red Blooded American Girl, which starred Christopher Plummer.
After putting her past behind her, Thomas made a fresh start in the 1990s. In an effort to further her career, she married entertainment attorney Skip Brittenham in 1992. In June 2000, Thomas gave birth to her only biological child, India Rose, while also assuming the role of stepmother to his two daughters, Kristina and Shauna.
“I decided to give it up and write for a while,” she told Reuters, “because I had about 45 restraining orders out, and I was on everything from a toilet seat cover to an ashtray—and I was in love, and [then] had two little girls.”
With a primary focus on writing, the actress from Zapped! claimed that frequent privacy violations by stalkers drove her away from acting, rather than a lack of roles.
“I was being really harassed. One day, I witnessed a person use a knife to scale the fence. That was it; I had these two small kids who needed to be raised so badly. However, I believe that now that I am older, people won’t annoy me as much.
In addition, Thomas is currently an activist, having previously served on the boards of the Amazon Conservation Team and the Rape Foundation.
Declaring oneself a feminist—a deceptive term for a former gender symbol—Thomas elucidated the significance of both.
“When I was younger, I followed people’s instructions, but as I grew older, I refused to compromise.” I desired independence and control. This got me a house and the recognition I needed to open doors. Having people see your body is not inherently bad. I don’t believe I deceived myself. Being a feminist, in my opinion, does not entail body shame, the woman stated.
Although it’s really unfortunate that Heather Thomas was unable to return to the acting world, we’re glad she received the support she required and is now embarking on a lifelong healing process.
We really enjoyed watching her as Jody Banks in The Fall Guy with the Six Million Dollar Man Lee Majors, one of the many amazing shows from the 1980s!
What you have to say about Thomas and her recuperation would be greatly appreciated!
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