Finding My Voice. Nita Whitaker LaFontaine
Ola Mae, my mentor, my muse, was a smart dresser and a savvy shopper. She believed in us girls wearing pretty things to bed so we had lovely nightgowns and jimmies just like she did. She could find a sale rack or an offbeat store and find clothing and shoe gems for her four children (my brother required special shoes that one of my father’s jobs paid for) that made us appear to be a wealthy family. She could sure stretch a dollar.
She stood about five foot six with shoulder length black press and curl hair, smooth semi-sweet chocolate skin, white straight brace free teeth brushed only with baking soda, full lips, and a quick warm smile. She had a small waist, warm heart, a beautiful figure, wore a size ten shoe, and had been born the eldest of fifteen children to Lois and James White. She was brought up on a farm and taught to be humble and obedient but her nature was always of kindness, politeness, and an eagerness to help others. I was told that she would go barefoot during a high school class so that her half-sister Jarutha could use her shoes for gym class. She was kindhearted and giving. She and my dad were a perfect match.
After losing their first two babies to late term miscarriages, my brother Junior was born; a six-month preemie, he survived but later would be diagnosed with cerebral palsy (though mild) because of developmental delays. He never learned to crawl. His legs didn’t work so well, but he was a happy drooling baby often dressed in white. My mother and dad were so happy to have this baby that she kept her floors clean so he could skooch around on them in his white outfits. They took him everywhere. It wasn’t uncommon at this time to keep your disabled child at home or to put him in an institution. Not my brother. He has perfect diction and that was due to the way my parents, especially my mother, mainstreamed him, talked to him, worked with him, and put him in every normal situation possible. I was learning also while she was teaching him. How did she know this was right?
I know what a gift she was because she was thinking ahead and wanted a broader world for us. I believe she followed her keen maternal instincts. Mom was my hero. She and Dad managed to functionally raise four children into productive kind people who are still an intact and loving family today. Where she got the energy, the drive, the perseverance, I’ll never fully understand. I do know that I wish to be that kind of beacon for my two daughters. Though I only had Mother for seventeen years, she packed a lifetime of memories into my heart. She was a wise, amazing, and spiritual being; if I can stand in her shoes at any time in my life, I think that would be wonderful for me. I always knew I was loved and cherished. I too know what a blessing that is. This blessed mother taught me about mothering, being a good citizen, and caring for my family. I hope to be just like her. All that I need to know about being a woman in the world, I learned from her. She was a remarkable woman.
I always knew mother was special but as I’ve become a mother, now I am convinced she was a genius ahead of her time and certainly an earth angel, just like my Donnie. At the end of her life, my mother was on a ventilator and heavily sedated was a memory that I could not shake for years. For a long time I couldn’t remember her walking, laughing, or being the Mom that I knew; the only images were of my seventeen-year-old self feeling helpless in the face of what was happening. I chose not to hand the albatross of seeing their father in the exact opposite way of how he lived his life to our young daughters, especially on that tightrope kind of day.
***
I realize now that even as I thought about my mother’s death, I was actually reflecting on her life. I was strengthened by the memory of her and resolved to continue fighting for the life of my precious husband, my angel. I wanted to focus on his life. I thought, He cannot die today. Didn’t think about the girls being without their father in that moment. I just wanted information and for him to stay alive. That’s all. Keeping him here and getting the right balance of drugs and sedation so that he could survive. Not only was his life on the ropes but so were ours and for those first twenty hours, all I could think was, Don’t take him, please …
CHAPTER 5 - SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME
“There’s a somebody I’m longing to see, I hope that he turns out to be;
someone to watch over me.”
—Ira Gershwin
We were emotionally charged with our fighting for his life boxing gloves on our third day, a Sunday. My bonus daughter Christine flew in from Pennsylvania with her small toddler child, Riley, and then-fiancé, Mike; my father, Green, who loves Don like a son; my sisters Kathy and Alene; and Aunt Lillian. Adam, Paul, and Pastor Larry, all kept constant vigil with me since their arrival Saturday. I could not nor did I want to leave Don’s side.
As word got around, the waiting room filled with our close friends and family. Don’s Uncle Dick (who was being treated for pancreatic cancer) and Auntie Char drove up from San Diego with their daughter Cheryl. Though we were all distraught, people gathered there to give and gain support and love and at this stunning turn of events for our beloved boy. I don’t remember how I told the girls that Daddy had become very sick but I know that I called them; that’s all I remember of telling them. It’s a blur now but I remember they were not at home; they had gone to friends’ houses later that morning when the drama was unfolding. It was a day of receiving friends, spending as much time as possible with Don, retelling what I knew to those who called, staying on top of the meds and the medical tests the doctors were doing, and trying to keep my wits about me.
Even though it had been a long time since I’d been an ICU nurse, instinct kicked in immediately. I needed to know everything and to be spoken to as a colleague and not just as an afraid and overwhelmed wife. Don’s primary doctors would come in and out, particularly Dr. Asher Kimchi who had long become Don’s friend as well as his cardiologist for nineteen years.
After my sisters arrived, my college girlfriend Pat brought the girls to the parking lot of the hospital later that evening; they were overwhelmed and didn’t know what to think or feel except fear and dread. Liisi watched me as I walked toward the car; she and Skye were assessing my body language because they could read my face and tell if they could feel safe. They slowly emerged out of the car and tumbled into my waiting arms. Looking into their puffy eyes, we hugged and kissed for some moments. I gained strength just from holding them. I told them everything I could that I knew to be true at that moment: that Daddy was very, very sick and the doctors were figuring out what had gone awry in his body. I reassured them of how strong Daddy was and what a fighter he was. I also gave them permission not to go into the ICU to see him. Trying to be strong for me, they had gotten most of their crying done before getting to the hospital and were numbed by the news.
They were so fragile and were frightened to see their powerful Dad laying so still that I felt the ICU was a bit much and decided to have them remain outside. I stayed in the parking lot with them for an hour or so and we shared some laughs to lighten the heaviness for a moment. They were ready to go home and I had to entrust them to each other’s love and care and the support of my amazing friends who showed up in herds for us.
***
Later that night, our dear friend Ben Vereen flew in from New York to be with us. Seeing Ben reminded me of the time when Don and I first started dating. Ben hired me for my first professional gig when I moved to Los Angeles as a background vocalist with Don. We rehearsed at Debbie Reynolds’s studio for three weeks along with Tony Warren (best friend and awesome singer), Wendy Fraser, and eight musicians. It was a tight, fast-paced show staged by Hymie Rogers. I felt so lucky to have landed a real singing job and not have to go to the hospital for my twelve-hour nursing shifts from seven to seven. Don and I had only been on a couple of dates, but he was very forward in saying that he wanted me to be his girl. I thought he was moving too fast and I told him as much. I was not in the mood for a boyfriend, having recently gotten out of a stinker of a relationship. All I wanted was a singing career. But there he was with those blue eyes …
First stop on the tour with Ben was a two-week engagement in Lake Tahoe; we stayed at the Valhalla Inn down a snowy road in Tahoe, and walked uphill to work at Harrah’s two shows a night. I did not have a cell phone in 1987 though Don did (quite an expensive toy) so I’d just give him a call from the room to say hello and he would always send flowers wherever I was staying. Such a romantic … I loved that about him.