Hello!
As most of you know I was never a fan of horror. I married into it. The fact that I didn’t even know who George A. Romero was when I met him sorta says it all…Maybe that was my charm.
Every single day from the moment George passed away, I have been learning about my husband’s work life and I have definitely come a long long way. I knew very little about his world. I of course saw his films and overheard hundreds of interviews, and I now know I had a surface knowledge and certainly through osmosis, had a good idea on the generals.
I did get to do my own Romero film festival with the Maestro (in retrospect how lucky was I!), and I was very liberal in my opinions and though I didn’t like Dawn of the Dead, he laughed his big laugh and told me I was probably the only human to think so, but he forgave me instantly and loved me anyway! We were in our very own bliss bubble. Despite my tepid response to Dawn (the GARF team is horrified that I am saying this out loud! Lol) and my love for Day of the Dead (Bub is the best zombie ever!), I am learning every single day about his films and his writings, and about his huge impact on the horror genre and as an independent American filmmaker. It is George’s life force and my love for him that give me the impetus to carry on his legacy.
To wit: I am in Pittsburgh at the moment with the team, and we are shooting this weekend with our new mascot “Garchy” (pictured above). Isn’t he the cutest zompet ever? This whole weekend I’ve been harkening back to some moments of pure darkness and of pure light. I am trying to help Garchy pronounce his name so he can introduce himself to you all. He is having some trubs with his G’s and it throws me back to a night where I was awakened by George fumbling around on the edge of the bed… I asked him what was up and he slurred some words and I knew immediately that George was having a stroke. OMG. I got him dressed hurriedly so I could take him to the hospital. I knew I could get him there faster than an ambulance. We managed the stairs but he kept fretting about his smokes (grrrrr… I have been an anti-smoker for over a decade and I kept begging him to stop. BTW, after this night he never had another cigarette!)
Got to the hospital in quick haste, got him checked in, and an hour or so later he was completely fine! Like nothing happened!
Fantastic!
However, after a score of diagnostic tests, they determined that he had a 70% blockage of the carotid artery.
Not so fantastic.
They kept him for a few days and underwent several consultations with several docs on what to do. Stent or meds… George and I decided to do the stent. It was going to be done by a superstar vascular surgeon. The procedure was supposed to be an easy peasy fix and it would be done in the morning, and we would play our Scrabble game in the afternoon.
Perfect!
I was waiting for George‘s operation to be done. I was in a packed waiting room and had all his belongings with me when a pale nurse came rushing in to get me and brought me to where George was having his procedure… I saw George being whisked away in a hallway to what I was then told to an emergency MRI. He had had a major stroke during the stenting.
Not so perfect.
The superstar surgeon was very distraught and "not confident." I was then placed in a small white room and waited for the results of the MRI. It was then that I got the "fireside chat.”
Incredible. The shift from looking forward to whooping his sorry ass at Scrabble to possibly losing my best friend (we were not yet married!) was unfathomable. George was in the ICU for a week. I slept under his bed so I would not be in the way of the nurses and doctors and all the equipment. After three days I went home and went to the hospital daily to visit, and saw very little improvement. Worrisome.
A few days later I received a call from one of the nurses. As she was walking by, he said good morning! Oh wow…I rushed to the hospital and sat beside him and asked him if he knew who I was… he stared at me blankly. I thought "oh my, he does not know who I am…” 20 minutes later, out of the blue, he said my name in an odd tone but that was a moment I’ll never forget.
It was a very hard year.
Here comes the pure light. I am walking down the hall at the rehab clinic when outside of his door I overhear George and one of his therapists. He is trying to explain to her a logic problem, and she isn’t getting it and at one point she says that logic isn’t her forte! Incredible.
I knew right then and there that he was back!
Today I'm under the klieg lights in the studio, staring at Garchy. I am struggling with different ways to cajole him to say the G of his name, and it’s not going so well. We will keep trying. We need to be patient – after all, he is a zombie. It just iterates to me that often life goes in full circles.
Through my love for George Romero comes a transference to my love for the GARF. The foundation represents him. His desires as an artist. His disappointments and the struggles with the business, and of course the joys and the successes. This passion he had for film is being channeled into the GARF. The foundation provides mentorships and scholarships and engages the horror community. It fills the hole that people feel from their loss of him.
Hopefully, the work of the GARF raises respect for both him as an artist and the genre he was put in. He always felt like a second-class director and that is just plain unacceptable!
I am learning, I am inspired, and I hope y’all are with me and the GARF!
Long live the legacy of George A Romero. The team at the GARF are his torchbearers.
Stay Scared!
Suz Romero
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You can learn more about and support the George A. Romero Foundation at https://georgearomerofoundation.org/.
