Remembering Paul Mooney: Friendship, Laughter and Legacy

It’s Sunday and my friend Paul Mooney is involved in a photo mystery: In this  photo Sammy Davis, Jr., Paul Mooney, Richard Pryor, And Bill Cosby are identified (three giants in comedy and other genere, and one giant in most every genre, although Bill Cosby’s crossover into television impacted the nation as well). Who is the 5th person in the background? Some say it’s Richard Roundtree, others say it Eddie Kendrick (of Temptations fame) or perhaps Quincy Jones. Others say it’s Mooney’s cousin Rudy Ealy who managed and cared for Mooney in his last years. IMHO it is Quincy Jones (Q was 5’6″ so he could be standing on a box or something). Only Bill Cosby, the only living identifiable person in the photo could possibly identify who number five is. It has been fun to read the online speculations. 

Mooney was a loyal and generous friend. I miss his calls in the middle of the night after a performance at the Comedy Club in LA or the former B.B. King Blues Club & Grill in Times Square, NY.  I miss his advice “Darling you should never cry; you are quite ugly when you cry.” So, I try not to cry around others. 

I met Mooney when attending Contra Costa College in the early 60’s when Mooney was beginning to establish himself as a comedian. In a Natural Science class, I believe, our last names started with the same letter, so rollcall connected us. Mooney began sitting next to me in class and eventually asked to copy my homework saying he was busy in the evenings working at Bay Area comedy clubs and other venues as he experimented and tweaked his comedy act. Oh, the parties he gave or organized. He could dance his a$$ off. I was recently divorced at that time with two young children. I was unlike most others in his circle at CCC who were a little younger, single and looking toward marriage and children. Mooney already had the twins (Mooney Brothers); however, he was not married. At the time I believed the only reason I was included in the gang (the IR’s) was because I did his homework. That’s really not fair to say; because I remained his friend until he died. Oh, the parties we had. Everyone at CCC wanted to know where the party was going to be that weekend. Mooney admonished us all to be secretive and keep the location a secret. The location was decided by Mooney. He even talked me into having a party at my small one bedroom. I reluctantly agreed. That was the day the inspectors decided to drop in on me in deciding whether to approve my application to move into low- cost housing. Of course, when the two gentlemen and one lady approached, the loud sounds of Gary US Bonds singing “I danced till a quarter to three last night, my baby and me” and at least fifteen to twenty people of all races singing, screaming and laughing at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, I knew my chances were over for getting into that low-cost housing unit. Mooney told me not to cry. 

During the last few years of his life, he asked me to accompany him on a comedy tour back east, I think Atlanta, GA. He was touring with the great comedian and social commentator, Dick Gregory at that time. I sat with him in first class on the flight back to the Bay. The adventure of being picked up and dropped off from and to my home was amazing. His cousin Carolyn and I worked the souvenir purchase table before and after the performances. What fun! 

His charm, grace and biting observations of life will remain with me forever. I miss you Mooney.

That’s me on the far left with Mooney and his two lovely cousins Alice and Carolyn as we celebrated his 75^th birthday in August 2014

 

I believe Bette Davis said the immortal words: “growing old ain’t for sissies.” Let me tell you as one who has grown old, whomever said it, they ain’t never lied! I’ll reach the never thought of in my youth age of 85 in a couple of months. When I started this Blog many years ago, I thought I would document my thoughts and events regarding the promises and regrets of aging. As I look back at my progress, I would grade myself an “F” for not posting my thoughts, realized and unrealized promises, and of course, my regrets. Since my post in 2020 life has been challenging to say the least. In September of 2020, I shared my thoughts as I sat looking out the window of that small room after being forced to move out of my lovely home into my eldest son’s and his family. The small room was my choice. I could have moved into one of the larger bedroom upstairs where the two couples slept; however, I chose the smaller room downstairs with a full bathroom next door. Upstairs, I would share the bathroom with my granddaughter and her husband. I thought I was being wise. I rationalized my intrusion into the night time of the two couples upstairs, the wiser choice was me remaining downstairs. Losing one’s home of over 30 years at the age of 77 was a devastating event. I did not know just how devastating it would become.

As I reflect of the years since the economic downturn of 2008, I made all the wrong decisions. With the unprovoked assistance of several entities of economic structure, I lost everything material: houses, possessions, a car, but most important, you lose your standing in the community at large as well as your family. And I believe, more important, you loose your status as the matriarch of your family. You now become the one who needs care and concern not the person that family members look up to. I had and still have difficulty in knowing that behind the eyes of my children and grandchildren, I am the one who has become a burden. When the bank, refuses to listen to your pleas for assistance, no matter your excellent record of on time payments or your high FICO score, they can choose your destiny. WTF chose mine. The shoulda/coulda thoughts still keep me awake some nights. I’m still carrying around the boxes of papers attesting to my attempts to remain the owner of my home. The slow loss of me as I was and the reshaping of me as I am now has been an amazing and sometimes humiliating transformation.

Let me explain what has happened to me, an almost 85 years old single female who regrets so many things. I’m sure my blackness may be associated with the issues I have faced, however; that is a small but not unimportant part of my challenges. I believe the major issue was my age and being single when faced with decisions that are life changing. Why didn’t I file for bankruptcy? Our current president filed five times I’m told. From childhood, I have been drilled (in my mind) of the importance of paying your bills and on time. Why didn’t I sell my home, before the foreclosure? I didn’t know that was an option. Besides I thought it could never happen to me. I was in the process of keeping my home through the Keep Your Home California program that California offered. I was approved for one, maybe two loans in that program. I was sure that I would win. When Wells Fargo refused to accept the Keep Your Home funds and transferred my loan to another lender, the dye was cast. In 2017 my home that I had bought in the 1960’s and had worked on: remodeling the Jack and Jill bathroom upstairs into two separate bathrooms, updated the kitchen, a new roof and fencing as well as new carpets, flooring and added the walk in closet in my bedroom and adding air conditioning and wall insulation to name a few projects over the years. My home was sold, against my will, to someone else. Oh, I hired a “lawyer” to help me file a suit for “Wrongful Foreclosure”, another wrong choice decision. After a year of monthly payments to him, who suckered me in with his “I left Haiti recently after trying to help the poor Haitian people, to help with people here in the states being hurt wrongfully by such banks as WTF…I hate WTF, they are a horrible entity, who cheat their borrowers”. I was hooked until that last video meeting. I sat in his firm’s office with his assistant while we communicated with him by video as he drank from a cup and arrogantly told me “banks can do whatever they want”. His assistant cried as I sat stunned.

It has become too painful to go on with this post. I’ll continue with part 2 soon. I’m in my apartment in a city near my youngest son. I’m adjusting to a new life at almost 85. I’m healthy and I still like to dance. I’m also looking into posting videos of me discussing my thoughts, for those interested. I’m old, but still kicking, remembering and dancing!

I can’t believe it’s been almost five (5) years since I last posted “The Window” in September 2020. We were at the beginning of the pandemic. I was studying for my masters degree in Psychology and Addiction Counseling. I was living with my son and his family. There were four generations living in the house. There have been many changes in my life as well as changes in the way I communicate with you. I am in awe of what AI will mean in how we live our lives. There are unimaginable things to come, I know that.

I’m older, I move slower. Since I last posted I’ve moved three times and was homeless for the month of August 2024. I was so seriously concerned that I carried a shopping bag (one of the large ones from a Home Goods/Ross/TJ Max types of lovely monogramed bags) with a couple of rolls of toilet paper ‘just in case’, a roll of paper towels, a bar of soap, a wash cloth and a large towel. Two (2) pieces of luggage were in the trunk of my 1999 Lexus with some everyday clothing. The back seat held two blankets and other essentials such as a bag with wiring connectors and extensions. I was preparing for sleeping in my car. Life can be a B***h.