Posted by Ilana Angel
Our hands are truly miraculous, and like most of the miracles that make up the human body, I take them, and all the things they do for me, for granted. Fingers are very special and so, in honor of fingers, and the hands they are attached to, I would like to share a few stories with you in the form of a blog.
—I broke a nail. Normally not a big deal, but I broke it so low on my nail bed that I thought I would pass out from the pain. I was truly amazed by how much it hurt. The throbbing was instant and the piece of my nail that hung there mocking me for an hour was almost too much to handle.
I felt nauseous, dizzy, and thought I would faint. It took 45 minutes for me to cut off the nail because each time I got close to cutting it, I would panic and was unable to do it. I finally clipped the broken piece off and it took a solid 3 days for it to stop hurting enough for me to put a band-aid on it.
I have had a child, and when I was younger spent a prolonged period of time in the hospital, and I cannot remember those things hurting as much as this. Granted I have a low threshold for pain, but this was intense. Who knew that breaking a nail would knock me out more than having a baby?
—I am a fan of flipping the bird. I kept a tally for one week and I presented my middle finger to complete strangers a total of 5 times, all of which were while in the car. Interesting to note that of the 5 times I did it, only one of my recipients actually saw it. That’s nice, but not satisfying. If someone flips me the bird while I am driving, I always smile. Not to make fun of them, but because I understand that the simple act of giving someone the finger makes you feel better. I smile as a “good for you”. Not sure how I would feel if it happened outside my car, but flipping the bird while driving is okay by me.
—I like clapping. It can be joyous, or a show of sarcasm, both of which I like. I was sitting in a meeting last week and read an email while I was listening to the speaker. Before I could stop myself, I found myself clapping as I read great news from a friend, and the meeting suddenly stopped. A client was talking about her upcoming massive move, and as she was talking about how stressed out she was, I started to clap. While awkward, it was very funny. Clapping is a great thing and we should do it more often. While I need to time it a bit better, spontaneous clapping is fun.
—I am a very touchy feely person. I like to hug, hold hands, and believe in the power of touch. How we express ourselves through touch is telling. I used to love to hold hands with my son. We would walk hand in hand all the time. As he got older that became less often. He is now 16 and it never happens. He is much taller than me and I find myself taking his arm on occasion. It is a lovely thing and has replaced our hand holding. If we are walking at night he will always stand on the street side of the sidewalk and take my arm to guide or support me. It’s a gesture that I value very much.
We were out and about this weekend in downtown LA, and as we went to cross the street, my son reached his hand back and took mine as we ran across the street together. He never gave it any thought I’m sure, but it was such a wonderful thing that it took all my strength not to cry. It was not about holding his hand, as much as it was that he took control to protect me. He would have done it with his girlfriend, wife, or child, and it was a lovely glimpse into the man he has become. I treasure the moment and to be honest, holding his hand was wonderful.
—I’m not one to eat with my hands. I have even been known to cut a slice of pizza on occasion. I’m not sure why, but even before I became a vegetatian, I was never a finger licking kind of girl. This weekend I met a young lady who reminded me that sometimes you’ve just got let things go. While out for breakfast I met a girl named Kelsey. She was almost 2 and delicious. She was out with her mom and sister, and she was eating eggs with her hands. By eating of course I mean she was decorating the floor and her hair with egg. It was hilarious.
She was at the table next to mine and I was watching this little girl while her mother looked in shock, trying to catch as much egg as she could. At one point I asked Kelsey if she was loving her eggs and she responded by reaching across and offering me some with her fingers. I leaned over and pretended to take a bite. I told her they were the best eggs I ever had and she was beaming as if she herself had made the eggs. Watching Kelsey eat with her hands reminded me that sometimes you’ve got to let loose and enjoy your food. No fork, just fingers.
—I’m a huge fan of making the peace sign with my fingers. I do it several times everyday. If I am crossing a street and someone stops, I flash a peace sign. If someone lets me into traffic, or I let someone else in, I flash a peace sign. It is nice, matters to people, and has better results than flipping the bird. I gave a peace sign to a woman driving the other day. She smiled and waved thank you. As she pulled in front of me I saw she had a yellow ribbon bumper sticker and I smiled. We get so caught up in living our lives, that we forget there are people risking their lives. Flash a peace sign today. You will feel good.
I like my fingers. They happen to be short and not particularly elegant, but they are wonderful. They show love, frustration, joy, impatience, and peace. The feed me, and allow me to comfort. Look at your hands. Their prints define you and how you use them defines you also. What a remarkable tool they are.
When I was young I knew a kid who was born with no hands, and I find myself thinking about him today. As I look in amazement at my hands, and feel profound gratitude for these 10 fingers that do so much, I am holding them together, saying a prayer of thanks, and keeping the faith.
12.19.13 at 2:57 am | My son has a free schlepping service.
12.12.13 at 8:05 am | Well played my son. Well played.
12.11.13 at 6:58 am | I watch in awe and stare with envy at these. . .
12.5.13 at 3:16 pm | Heaven has received a blessing today.
12.3.13 at 3:05 pm | Every time I go into the kitchen I half expect to. . .
11.30.13 at 10:42 am | "The only correct actions are those that demand. . .
9.15.13 at 3:14 pm | I love you Russell Brand. (449)
12.12.13 at 8:05 am | Well played my son. Well played. (400)
7.25.11 at 5:38 pm | We need more Jews! (255)
February 24, 2012 | 12:12 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
I love Zac Efron. I think he is super cute and talented, not to mention that he has managed to transition from a child actor to a young man without hitting the land mines of fame at a young age. This is a good kid. He is clean cut, a role model for young men, and has abs that make you want to buy a six pack of something and drool over pics of him working out on the beach.
This is a good looking man, but because I watched him grow up through the eyes of my own child, he will always be a kid to me. He’s that adorable Zac Efron. He does not drink, smoke, or get into trouble. He is a clean cut, All American, boy next door, who has some Jewish in his blood. There is truly nothing to not like about this kid. He’s golden if you ask me.
It was no surprise to me when at the premier for his latest film “The Lorax”, he accidentally dropped a condom on the red carpet. Granted it was in front of the world, at a Dr. Suess movie, and kids were all around him, but his clear embarrassment was charming, and though you could tell he was mortified, he had to turn from the cameras and have a quick laugh.
As the mother of a teenage son, I love it that I can now pull the “Zac Efron has safe sex” card. It will mean nothing to my kid of course, and he will think I’m lame, but who cares? This great kid is practicing safe sex and that matters to me. If I see him as a role model to my kid, then his choices make me a great mom. If he had dropped a crack pipe, not so much.
Rumors are flying that Efron is dating his Lorax costar Taylor Swift, and while I can embrace Zac is sexually active, I cannot wrap my head around the thought of young and innocent Taylor Swift getting it on. That said, if Taylor is going to have sex, then Zac is a good place to start. They are beautiful and talented people and I wish them lots of great, safe sex.
How funny is it that the world is so fascinated by these kids and that they may or may not be having sex? For me it’s not about celebrity gossip as much as it is about the fact that I watched them grow up and if they are now adults, doing adult things, that means my son is close behind. That is enough for me to want to drink during the day and home school my son.
The story here is not that Zac Efron carries around condoms, or that he might be having sex with Taylor Swift. The real story is that my kid is on his way to adulthood and God willing he will carry around condoms too. God bless Zac Efron and his safe sex practices. He’s a good kid so congrats to him and Mazel Tov to whoever he is getting it on with.
As for the day my own son becomes sexually active, I can’t even imagine. It will happen of course and I will be prepared. I will buy him condoms, wrap them in High School Musical Zac Efron wrapping paper, with a message that congratulates him on earning his Safe Sex badge from the Boy Scouts. I will then drink some wine, and keep the faith.
February 22, 2012 | 6:56 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
There are moments during the course of any given day when I wonder if I am in hell. Sitting in traffic on the 405 freeway, watching reality television, teaching my son to parallel park. Yesterday however was special, because I am certain I actually saw the devil. He was laughing and taking great joy in observing the torment of myself and others in the parking lot of the Studio City Trader Joe’s.
Important to note that in the ancient language of Sumerian, “Trader Joe’s” translates into “you will never find parking”. I’m driving around, waiting for the magical moment when I see a person with a cart approaching their car. I thought it was my lucky day because I managed to find a cart to stalk after only 7 minutes of cruising the lot like a vulture circling over an almost dead rabbit in the desert.
I approach and put on my blinker as I watch a lovely woman, who appeared to be a solid 4’10”, roll her cart up to the trunk and start unloading. She finishes up, puts the cart away, gives me a wave, and gets ready to head out. I’m stoked because I know I will now be able to get in and out in less than 15 minutes. I’ve got a spot, and a list, so this will be great. No need at all to be stressed!
She starts to pull out and a car is approaching from the other direction so I pull a little closer just to ensure they know it’s mine. I smile with the knowledge that I have beaten the odds and gotten a spot. My joy and personal celebration was a little premature as it was then that my twenty minutes in hell began. The devil appeared, sat on the hood of my car, and began to laugh.
The woman who smiled at me with a look of congratulations at getting her spot, then proceeded to do a mindboggling 16 point turn to get out of the spot. 16 turns. 1. 6. Sixteen. Dieciséis. I have never seen anything like it. She would back up an inch, turn her wheels, and go forward over, and over, and over again. After 4 times I laughed and thought it might take her 6 tries!
Six would have been great! By now I’m fascinated with how she is getting out of the spot and I can’t move. She actually had a crowd as we all looked on in amazement as she tried to pull her HONDA ACCORD out of a grocery store parking spot. Oh yes, it was an Accord, not a Hummer. I wanted to laugh but the sight of the devil on my hood was a little unsettling.
I was so confused by what I was watching that at one point I almost got out of my car to see if it was my mother driving. Could she have come from Canada to surprise me and was stopping to get a few things? Did this poor woman have any idea that she the worst driver in Los Angeles? Was the manager of Trader Joe’s watching on a surveillance camera inside and laughing?
It truly was fascinating. She had all the room in the world and all she needed to do was back out. In retrospect I should have recorded it and put it on YouTube it was that funny. I’m guessing the devil did, and is watching it on a loop right now. The devil hangs out in the parking lot of Trader Joe’s so enjoy your trip to hell, don’t forget to buy avocados, and keep the faith.
February 20, 2012 | 11:21 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
My son get’s his hair cut at a barbershop that specializes in African American hair. He has full, thick, curly hair, and cutting it is an art form. He had his hair cut by the same woman for 14 years and then decided he wanted something new, so he selected this shop on his own. We go every few weeks and each time it’s me, my son, and a group of divine black men.
I don’t date black men. Not because of their color, but because I only date Jews and I have not come across black Jewish men in my search for love. In my hour long visit to the barbershop this weekend however, I may have actually fallen in love with a black man. By love of course I mean I met a man who was so handsome I found myself unable to speak to him.
Before we talk about him, let’s talk about the barbershop. It is fabulous. Men stop by to chat whether they need a haircut or not. There are stories, laughs, and a whole lot of respect. Everyone says hello ma’am with a bow of the head, and shakes the hand of my son as if they have been friends for years. It is comfortable and has a great view.
By view of course I mean the men I stared at for an hour were really very handsome. Not to mention the fact that my son gets the best hair cuts there. They cut his hair not only so it looks good when we walk out, but it is cut in a way that anticipates the curls coming in, so it grows out looking even better. These men know how to cut hair.
Since I figured I was going to blog about the experience, I asked a young man there is he ever dated white women and it led to a very interesting conversation. He told me that he had never been out with a white woman, mostly because he does not find them physically attractive. He spoke of his love of black women with the fluidity of a poet.
We were joined by another man who told me he dates women of all ethnicities. He did not want to limit himself in his search for love and has success with both white and black women. Important to note that he was really very attractive. He was tall and lean, with dimples and a slight New York accent. For a minute I could not hear what he was saying.
He asked me if I date black men and I told him I did not because I only date Jews. He told me that my goals should be love with no restrictions. He also told me that rather than worrying about what the faith of a man is, I should just be concerned with whether or not he has faith at all. He then told me he’d like to take me out for dinner.
My mother always told me I should not play with matches if I was not prepared to deal with fire. Me dating outside of my faith is like playing with matches. What if I went out with a man who was not Jewish, we fell in love, and he wanted a Christmas tree? It would cause problems so why start what I can’t finish. I am a practicing Jew and that is my life.
I politely declined his invitation and told him that as lovely as he was, I simply didn’t date outside my faith. Truth be told, he may have also been too good looking for me. He looked me in the eye when he spoke to me and it made me flutter. It was as if we were alone. I could not have held an articulate conversation with him had we gone out.
In the end inter-racial dating comes with it’s own judgment. I see human beings first, and color is never an issue to me. If there were two men in front of me, one tall and one short, one black and one white, I would describe them as tall and short first. I have raised my son to see humanity and not judge a person based on how they look.
I am searching for love and it turns out I have a type that has nothing to do with color. Maybe Drake is my dream man? Apart from the fact that I am old enough to be his mother, which is not cute, he really is quite fabulous. He is Jewish, black, and respectful of women. Drake is simply lovely, I like his music and who he is as a man.
When talking about the divorce of his parents at age five, and his childhood, Drake has said, “I had to become a man very quickly and be the backbone for a woman who I love with all my heart, my mother.” I love how he loves his mom. He went to Jewish Day School and had a Bar Mitzvah. This is a sweet Jewish kid who actually reminds me of my son.
He’s not my dream man, as much as he is a role model for my son. Drake is a decent human being who happens to be both Jewish and black. Should a man with similar values and upbringing be reading, and if he is old enough to be Drake’s dad, then he might be the man of my dreams because dating a mensch is how I roll. If you’re out there, call me.
I love going to the barbershop with my son. It was probably my last visit as he is driving on his own and will now take himself. It feels nostalgic of an easier time to be there with the men of the neighborhood and hear their stories. My son got a great haircut, and I was reminded that when it comes to love, I am keeping the faith.
February 16, 2012 | 10:32 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
I have been sad for a couple of days. Not depressed, just sad. It was the anniversary of my dad’s passing, my son is growing up, I miss my family, and I have decisions to make about my work, but none of that is the cause of my sadness. I was just sad. I have been crying easily and often.
I think being sad is okay. It is an emotion of value and while I am not wallowing in it, I allowed it wash over me with the hope it would wash away. I woke up today feeling better. There are many things that could make me sad, but in the end I’m not sure what the specific reason was.
At first I felt just horrible that I was sad. My life is blessed and I have friends who are going through some tough things these days, and being sad felt a little selfish. How is it that I was sad when my life is so happy? In the end I stopped thinking about it, embraced it, and let it go.
There is no shame in being sad. I am fortunate that it came and left. To those who are sad, it is okay. Even when surrounded by blessings, life is hard, can be stressful, and there are days when it’s just too much. Be sad, feel what you need to, and let it go. Being sad happens.
Just as I was letting my sadness go, I had something to really be sad about. Pinot Bistro is my favorite restaurant in the valley. It was been an important place to me for many years. I have experienced tremendous joy and unthinkable sorrow in connection to this restaurant.
It is where I went to celebrate special occasions with my son, where I go for ladies night with my girlfriends, where I planned my wedding reception before my heart was broken and the wedding was off, and where I have been on countless dates over the years. I love this place.
The food is divine, the wait staff are masters of their trade, and the ambience was always welcoming and warm. It is where my date got drunk and threw up on my shoes, and where I fell in love. It is where my girlfriends and me have met for dinner for the past 16 years.
After 20 years, Pinot Bistro is closing their doors for good this week. Their lease was up and sadly they are not renewing. Last night, to pay a final farewell to our beloved Pinot, the girls and me went out for dinner. It was three hours of laugher, Cosmos, and reminiscing.
Los Angeles is full of great places to eat, but this place was special. It is close to my home, I knew the staff, and I always felt comfortable there. I knew the food would be great and if my date was a dud, I had back up. I truly have no idea where we will go now. I hate starting over.
After 16 years it was my go to place and I am sad it’s gone. I have so many memories of Pinot Bistro, but perhaps the location will be taken over by something fabulous and a new tradition can pick up where it left off. It is the end of an era. Farewell Pinot Bistro, and thank you.
I trust my 16 years of patronage will allow them to think kindly of me if lets say, hypothetically, a set of salt and pepper shakers went missing, in the event someone felt ballsy enough to feel a memento was needed. I’m just guessing it will happen during the final weekend.
From Prince Charming to trolls, many of my dating stories involve Pinot. Speaking of trolls, yesterday I was asked out online by a man who had no picture posted. We emailed a couple of times, but I generally don’t take men without a picture seriously because they are not playing fair.
I was on Twitter while we were having a conversation, and I asked him what he looked like. He told me he looked like a troll, but not to worry because he was a great guy and I would be willing to overlook his looks because he was such a wonderful human being. He was charming.
When he said this I asked my Twitter followers if they would rather have fabulous sex with a troll, or bad sex with a supermodel. It was unanimous that all the women would rather have the great sex, and hilarious because some of their questions in making a choice were brilliant.
Would people have to know they slept with a troll? Would they go out in public? Was it just sex or a relationship? Women went with great sex while men opted for the supermodel. Not all, but a good 80% of the men I asked said they would go with beauty over sexual satisfaction.
Once could assume they are either not good in bed, or simply have never had good sex. It proves that men think with their genitals, but perhaps also implies that they are not that talented in the use of their genitals. It was an interesting conversation with both the troll and Twitter.
By the end of our conversation, he was calling me Angel and I was calling him Troll. I agreed to meet him for a coffee. He asked for a drink but with Pinot now out of the picture, I need to find a new safe go to date spot so until then, the troll will need to come out during the daylight.
I’m guessing he’s not really a troll, but one never knows. He could be, and that might be okay too. I am old enough and wise enough to know what really matters and so we’ll see. With Pinot gone, and my sadness over, it’s time for a new beginning. Maybe what I need in my life is a troll.
I woke up feeling blessed. My son is happy and healthy, I am fortunate to love my work, my family is a phone call away, and I will see them this summer. My friends are fantastic, and I am going on a date with a troll. With all that, all I can do s smile, embrace life, and keep the faith.
February 14, 2012 | 12:17 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
Yesterday marked the 9th anniversary of the passing of my dad. I spent a lot of time crying, and that I managed to make it through the day was a miracle because there were moments when I simply could not breathe. I loved my father, miss him everyday, and feel the loss deeply.
My parents have eight grandchildren, but my father only met four of the kids as the rest arrived after his passing. I am truly blessed my son was able to know my dad. They had a wonderful relationship and my son has vivid and special memories of time with his beloved Grandpa Bob.
Valentine’s Day has become a difficult day as it is the day I flew home, sat with my deceased father, and memorized every single inch of his face, and desperately tried to hear his voice in my mind. When I finally had to leave I could feel my heat breaking in my chest. It was a debilitating day.
My father’s final days were heartbreaking. Cancer ravaged his body and he was in and out of consciousness, but I called everyday and my sister would hold the phone to his ear so I could talk to him. It always made me sad, but I believe he could hear me, and looked forward to my calls.
I am going to spend Valentine’s Day with my son. We will go out for dinner and talk about my dad. We will discuss dating, both his and mine, and I will be reminded my life is full of love. I love my family, friends, and my work. I also love the idea that one day my prince will come.
I don’t know, or care, what he looks like. I am not concerned with his height, weight, or eye color. He will make me laugh, and ease my sorrow and my fear. I want a partner, and it is what my father wanted for me. He saw my marriage end and prayed I would find love again.
Valentine’s Day is a little silly in it’s commercial overload, but at the end of the day, if I am going to be honest, I probably find it annoying because I am not in love. If I had a man in my life I would enjoy shopping for a gift for him, and getting flowers from him. Love is a really great thing.
I was reminded today of the blog I wrote last year on Valentine’s Day. It included a video about finding love at any age, and that sex is always an option. I am sharing it again today because it gives hope and laughter. Today is not a day to be sad, but rather a day to be hopeful.
I am hopeful that I will find love, give love, keep love and share love. I am hopeful that my son has loving relationships in his life and finds his beshert. I am hopeful that his beshert will be Jewish. I am hopeful that my father watches over me and loves me always.
Love will find me. Then, as now, Valentine’s Day will be a day of tribute to the love of my dad and the blessing of my son. I wish you all love. I hope you have it, find it, keep it, appreciate it, wish for it, enjoy it, and know you deserve it. Happy Valentine’s Day. Keep the faith.
February 13, 2012 | 2:41 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
This past Saturday night, the Jewish Journal held its first singles event and I was honored to be a part of it. By a part of it of course I mean this was my baby and I was thrilled with how the event turned out. It was the forward thinking of Rob Eshman and David Suissa that propelled the idea forward, and the support of Jay Firestone that made it all happen.
Over 100 LA area singles came together at the Luxe Sunset Boulevard Hotel for drinks and a little chat. Danielle Berrin moderated a conversation with myself, Seth Menachem and Elliot Steingart. We talked about sex, love, faith, hope, online dating, and in my case, going from jaded to bitter at the lack of good dates, and abundance of bad dates in Los Angeles.
The range of guests went from young people in their twenties, all the way to some lovely people in their seventies. It was really fascinating to see so many generations of people all united in their search for love. Whether your search is for something casual, serious, sexual, or happily ever after, no matter what your age, the road to love is the same. Difficult.
I was honestly touched by how many people there read my blogs and asked questions about things I have written about. Writing is very solitary so it was lovely to hear my work had resonated with people. A highlight of the night was meeting women who had dated some of the same men I have written about while chronicling my dating life. Hilarious.
I am painfully honest in this blog. I have written about my sex life, lack of a sex life, good dates, bad dates, being lonely, and the profound joys and difficulties of being a single mother. My stories matter to me and it was nice to see that they matter to other people too. Dating sucks, but our event showed me that singles do not. I met some great people.
There was a man in his late twenties who told me he was new to dating, socially awkward, and a virgin. He was the sweetest man and I’d like him to meet a very special girl because he was darling. I met a man in his sixties who felt the need to tell me just had sex with a woman in her forties and he was quite remarkable in bed. Two opposite sides of the dating spectrum.
There were equal numbers of men and women, old and young, and in the end we are all feeling the same frustrations. There were Jews of all levels of observation, as well as non-Jews. If my dating preference is to only date Jewish men then surely I can understand why women of all faiths would want to date a Jew. Jewish men rock, so I get the attraction.
The Jewish community is small, and I think we all get locked into our temples, or circles of friends, and once we exhaust the dating options there, we find ourselves dating online. Meeting someone at an event like we had this weekend was so much nicer than dating online. You see someone in person and there is a comfort in knowing they are looking for something.
Online, people hide behind their stories. In person, there is an honesty that is refreshing. Stepping outside of you own community, into the Jewish community at large, is really a great thing, and that will be my hope for the next event, and there will be a next one. Our goal will be to unite the Jewish community of singles beyond our own inner circles.
This was not your typical singles event. There was mingling and exchanging of numbers, but there was also an open forum to talk about being single and that will be expanded for our next event. People want to not only hear about your experiences, but also share their own. There are a lot of single people in LA, and the more we know, the smaller the world becomes.
I met a lot of people that told me they have someone for me to meet which is fabulous. Going to a singles event is not always going to result in meeting someone, but could end with you meeting someone who is going to help you meet someone. I learned a lot from our singles event experiment and I cannot wait for the next bigger and better go round.
When I left the hotel at 11:20 there were couples in the hotel bar having drinks, people sitting in the lobby chatting, and that was the fun part. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and this weekend we learned that it takes a community to find your beshert. You never know who will know the person that you will be your next great love.
Thank you to everyone who came out for our event. It was a pleasure to meet you all and I appreciate your feedback on how to make the event better. Being single sucks, but knowing you are not in it alone makes it better. I am not a fan of online dating but I will continue to do it because as long as I do, it means I have hope, and hope keeps bitterness at bay.
To the Israeli man who arrived late because he got lost, I think you are lovely and regret not giving you my number. To the lady in her late fifties who told me she wanted me to dance at her wedding, I can’t wait. To everyone who got dressed up on a Saturday night to come and hang out with us, thank you for coming and for reminding me to keep the faith.
February 10, 2012 | 1:01 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
John Goodman is very wealthy. He was a child of privilege, but as wealthy as he was growing up, he’s richer now. He founded the International Polo Club and is a billionaire. That’s with a B. He is not only a billionaire, but also a pig, coward, and disgusting.
Two years ago, while drunk, Goodman ran a stop sign and killed 23 year old Scott Wilson. While the Wilson family mourned the loss of their beloved son, Goodman posted a $100K bond and checked into the Miami Four Seasons, while he waited to be arrested.
The Wilson family is suing Goodman for the wrongful death of their son. Goodman is a billionaire on paper, but one can assume when you have that much money, there is even more hidden offshore, in protected trusts, and in other people’s names. Punitive damages are involved so this matters.
In order to protect his money, Goodman did something so unbelievable I can’t wrap my head around it. Goodman’s girlfriend, Heather Hutchins, is now his daughter. That is correct folks. 48 year old Goodman adopted his 42 year old girlfriend so he could transfer his wealth to her.
By transferring the money to his “daughter” before the trial, it is safe and cannot be touched. He is allowed to give her 1/3 of his wealth, which when you are talking about billions of dollars, is not a small amount of money. That money cannot be touched by any judgment against him.
The legal papers read: “The adoption declares Ms. Hutchins to be Mr. Goodman’s child and legal heir, entitled to all of the rights and privileges of Mr. Goodman’s natural born children. While there is nothing unusual about an adult adoption, the critical fact here is that Ms. Hutchins is Mr. Goodman’s 42-year-old girlfriend.”
Goodman’s criminal trial starts March 6 when he will be charged with DUI, vehicular manslaughter and leaving the scene of a crash. He could face up to 30 years in prison. He was drunk, ran a red light, killed a boy, and then he left. 30 years doesn’t seem like enough time to me.
Goodman claims the adoption was a way to protect his children, but what about the Wilson’s child? Was he concerned with his well being when he killed him and left him alone to die? While I appreciate that what Goodman is doing is legal, it is not decent. Shame on him.
Goodman hit Wilson so hard that his crumpled car went airborne and landed in a canal, on its roof, and immediately began sinking. Scott Wilson was a recent graduate of the University of Central Florida with a degree in mechanical engineering. Let’s not forget about this boy.
As a mother, I cannot imagine ever losing a child, and for this boy to have his life taken, after he was just starting to live it, is unforgiveable to me. I hope Mr. Goodman remembers that his killed someone’s child each time he has sex with his daughter. I also hope he rots in hell.
Too harsh? Maybe. By maybe of course I mean no. Goodman left a young man to die because he was selfish and stupid. He then scrambled to hide money so he does not have to give it to that child’s family. They don’t care about the money you douchebag. They want their son back.
I find this story upsetting for a lot of reasons. There is clearly a creepy factor, but it’s more than that. He killed a man and then showed no decency by leaving him alone to die. He is now disrespecting his memory because of money. It’s all rather horrific and heartbreaking.
I am sending my condolences to the Wilson family. I am sorry for your loss and I hope Scott gets peace at trial with a conviction of the man who killed him. As for Mr. Goodman, he is a despicable human being and when it comes to his getting the maximum sentence, I am keeping the faith
******* UPDATE *******
The biological children of Goodman have gone to court asking the judge to throw out the adoption of Hutchins, saying it was all part of an elaborate scheme of their father to protect his money from the pending $100 million dollar law suit he is facing.
With the adoption is place, Hutchins is set to get $250K a year for the rest of her life, plus millions more from Goodman’s trust. It breaks down to her getting about $200 million dollars over the next forty years, and his biological kids are pissed off.
There is a lot of money involved her and I get that money makes people crazy, but what about Scott Wilson, the boy who was killed? All this talk of money and nobody in the Goodman family is talking about the fact that someone died at the hand of Goodman.
This Sunday will mark the 2 year anniversary of Scott Wilson being killed. Scott was only 23 years old and home from college for the weekend to celebrate his sister’s birthday, when Goodman, who was twice the legal limit of blood alcohol level, ran a stop sign.
He plowed in Scott’s car, which landed in canal, and took off by foot. While Scott was drowning in the canal, Goodman called 911 from down the road and said he saw the accident. He was so drunk and/or stupid, he thought they would not know it was his Bentley?
This is a nightmare for the Wilson family and that Goodman keeps disrespecting them over and over again is horrific. He killed a boy and he should be giving money to Scott’s family, not to his whore/daughter/girlfriend, who should be ashamed of herself.
I get that the biological kids are angry they are losing out on all this money, but they should be talking about the death of Scott Wilson and trying to help that family, not scrambling to get the money themselves. Problems of the rich I guess.
In court documents it says Goodman never told his kids about the adoption because they did not like Hutchins, and Hutchins complains that the kids kept erasing her information from their dads phone until he had to memorize her phone number on his own.
Really? Is this chick serious? She is just as disgusting as her drunk boyfriend and I want to know if the state of Florida is going to charge Goodman with incest and sleeping with a prostitute since she is now both his child and a whore.
The civil trial is set for March 27th, with the criminal trial on the docket for March 6th. He faces up to 30 years in prison if convicted and I hope he is. I’m sure there are lots of people in prison who will be interested in getting adopted and calling him Daddy.
The lack of decency in John Goodman is upsetting to me, and this story annoys me to no end. I will be following the trials, sending my prayers to the Wilson family. As for justice being served and the memory Scott respected, I am keeping the faith.