Tag: muscular dystrophy association

Gayle in jail. Please send bail.

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We’ve been here before.  Friday the 13th is my birthday (surely you don’t suffer from paraskevidekatriaphobia). 

I thought it would be great because, after all of this time, that is the day we finally are scheduled to upload Last Farm Standing on Buttermilk Hill: Voelcker Roots Run Deep in Hardberger Park to the printers.  Getting a 240-page book on the press should be something to celebrate, but my birthday looks more like gloom and doom.  (Click here to help me now.)

Law enforcement officers are picking me up and locking me away in The Vault on August 12 as part of the MDA (Muscular Dystrophy Association) Lock-Up.  While some of my friends have shown their generosity and compassion, others seem to have their hands stuck in their pockets, meaning I have not yet raised my required bail – $2,000.  (Click here to help me now.)

Fearing I might not be able to secure the funds to get out, I thought I better hatch a back-up plan.  Jail break.  Zinc and Boudro’s are donating a last meal to all of MDA’s prisoners.  Maybe I can find a way to surreptitiously slip my utensils under my bra (Ow!).  (Click here to donate now.)

I asked Ronnie of Zinc Bistro to show me where I would prefer to spend my sentence, next door and the floor below.  The wine cellar.  If I could just tunnel from The Vault into Zinc’s wine cellar, I would be content to stay imprisoned for life.  (If I can tunnel into the wine cellar, you don’t have to give a penny.)

But then Ronnie took me up to The Vault where I will be locked up.  He laughed cruelly as he showed me the thickness of the door on the huge safe, and said all four walls, the ceiling and, unfortunately, the floor are the same thickness.  No way I’ll be able to dig out of there with a knife and fork.   There is no escape.  (Click here to help me escape now.)

So I am back to pleading with those of you who have not yet done so to please pull your hands out of your pockets right now. 

My bail money can be your tax deduction. 

Your gift to the Muscular Dystrophy Association could help send a child to summer camp or fund life-saving research. 

Plus it’s my birthday.   So please, please, please click here to bail Gayle out of jail.

And, hey, I’ll take Friday the 13th over any Monday.

Update on August 12:  The police car came and took me away, but, thanks, thanks and more thanks to a rather philanthropic hand of followers (who did, however, make me sweat it out until the last minute, but all’s well that ends well), I served no time.  Enjoyed the bountiful spread contributed to the incarcerated by Zinc and Boudro’s, but particularly enjoyed one of “the secrets from the cellar” one of the owners shared with me:  JC Cellars 2005 The Imposter, a 92 on Wine Spectator described as:

As exotic as it is potent, with deep blackberry liqueur, sandalwood and wild game aromas and rich, ripe cassis, blueberry and licorice flavors that power on toward the bold, spicy finish. Zinfandel, Mourvedre, Petite Sirah and Syrah.

And, best of all, I will be free to drink again tomorrow on my birthday.

Gayle in Jail; Send Bail

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Spending more than a year with papers and photographs belonging to Max and Minnie Alma Tomerlin Voelcker encircling my desk has left me deeply attached to the pair of dairy farmers I never knew.  Among the things I learned about Minnie was that she cared deeply about children.  Stan Graff told me, “She adored Jerry Lewis and always watched his telethon.”  She then would pick up the phone and make her pledge to help “Jerry’s Kids.”  (Click here to donate now and be spared the rest of this blog.)

mda lock-upThe Muscular Dystrophy Association called while I was proofreading the chapter mentioning the telethon in the final manuscript of Last Farm Standing on Buttermilk Hill.  That eerie coincidence made it rather hard to say no.  As I prepare to go to jail for Jerry’s Kids, I dedicate my efforts to the memory of Minnie.  (Click here to donate now and be spared the rest of this blog.)

gayleinjail
Gayle in jail; please send bail.

So…. MDA is throwing me in jail on August 12 and not letting me out until I make bail.  My birthday is August 13; so I really would like to be out in time to celebrate.   (Click here to donate now and be spared the rest of this blog.)

My birthday falls on a Friday this year; so I am not sure that is a good omen.  Bad things have been known to happen on August 13:  the Aztecs fell at Tenochtitlan, and Man o’ War lost for the first and only time during his racing career.  On the day of my birth, the heavens were so angry with my parents for bringing me into this world, a hurricane struck my hometown.  And in case you think that a mere coincidence, hurricanes returned for my first and second birthdays as well.  I just do not think I was part of God’s divine plan.  (Are you still reading?  Click here to donate now and be spared the rest of this blog.)

I spent a lot of time in confession when I was young, but, up to now, the worst sentence I ever received was to say three “Hail Marys” and one “Our Father.”  I have never been thrown in jail (the old bank Vault behind Zinc Wine. Champagne. Spirits.), and I am not looking forward to it.  Hey, I’m claustrophobic.  (Come on.  It’s tax-deductible.  Click here to donate now and be spared the rest of this blog.)

I thought my sisters would help me.  They are generous souls.  But they each only coughed up a measly dollar (I know every dollar counts in fundraising, but they are my own flesh and blood.).  Maybe it had something to do with the message I sent them noting that NPR had recommended contacting elderly relatives to be sure they were surviving the heat wave.  They were unimpressed by the pledge on my MDA website:  “…I promise to be nicer to you in the future.  No, this time I mean it.  Really.  Truly, I will.”  (Click here to donate now and be spared the rest of this blog.)  

Do they think I know another 1,998 people ready to chip in a dollar to save me?  No-o-o-o.  At this rate, I’ll die in jail.   (You must be as tight as my sisters.  Click here now.)   

So I am turning to you, my good friend.  After all, “A friend in need is a friend indeed.”  Remember: 

A good friend will always help you make bail.  A really good friend will be sitting beside you asking, “But we had a blast, didn’t we?”

P.S.  My Campaign Theme Song is The Jeff Healey Band’s It’s only money.  (Of course, it will cost you another dollar to hear the whole song.)

Please donate now to ensure my timely release, and kindly contribute more than a dollar or donate often.  It’s not about me.  It’s for Jerry’s kids.