Saving Milly: Love, Politics, and Parkinson's Disease

Overview

Morton Kondracke never intended to wed Millicent Martinez, but the fiery daughter of a radical labor organizer eventually captured his heart. They married, raised two daughters, and loved and fought passionately for twenty years. Then, in 1987, Milly noticed a glitch in her handwriting, a small tremor that would lead to the shattering diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease. Saving Milly is Kondracke’s powerfully moving chronicle of his vital and volatile marriage, one that has endured and deepened in the face of ...

See more details below
Paperback (Reprint)
$11.14
BN.com price
(Save 20%)$14.00 List Price
Other sellers (Paperback)
  • All (86) from $1.99   
  • New (10) from $2.99   
  • Used (76) from $1.99   
Sending request ...

Overview

Morton Kondracke never intended to wed Millicent Martinez, but the fiery daughter of a radical labor organizer eventually captured his heart. They married, raised two daughters, and loved and fought passionately for twenty years. Then, in 1987, Milly noticed a glitch in her handwriting, a small tremor that would lead to the shattering diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease. Saving Milly is Kondracke’s powerfully moving chronicle of his vital and volatile marriage, one that has endured and deepened in the face of tragedy; it also follows his own transformation from careerist to caregiver and activist, a man who will “fight all the way, without pause or rest, to ‘save’ his beloved Milly.” *

(* Linda Bowles, The Washington Times)

Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
"Parkinson's disease has kidnapped my wife," Morton Kondracke writes. "It is in the process of killing her. I hug and kiss what is left of her, hang photographs of the old, strong Milly throughout the house, and talk to her. We hold hands." The former McLaughlin Group panelist has composed an intensely moving memoir of his life with his much-loved Milly. Anyone who cares for people or fears the ravages of this devastating disease should read this wise and heroic book.
From the Publisher
“One of those uncommon books that manages to ennoble its author and its reader alike.”
The Wall Street Journal

“A TRULY COMPELLING READ . . . AN INTENSELY PERSONAL MEMOIR . . . There is only one Milly. And from what I learned in her husband’s splendid book, she is a treasure.”
National Review

“HONEST AND WISE . . . A love story that, without mushiness, plumbs the meaning of marriage . . . A tender tell-all that grabs one by the throat from the first paragraph to the last.”
The Oregonian

“ONE OF THOSE BOOKS YOU OWE IT TO YOURSELF TO READ. . . . It is a moving testimonial to a brave woman. . . . It’s a beautiful book. Do yourself a favor and read it.”
Wisconsin State Journal

“WARM, LOVING, TENDER . . . IMPOSSIBLE TO PUT DOWN.”
–LARRY KING, USA Today

“POWERFUL, UNVARNISHED, HEARTRENDING.”
–Chicago Tribune

Larry King
[M]oving and impossible to put down. . . Four stars.
Mary Tyler Moore
Morton Kondracke creates a moving picture with his words.
Christopher Reeve
[an] extraordinarily moving account.
Katie Couric
Morton's love for Milly has been unfailingly strong and steadfast.... His fierce devotion has inspired him to move mountains.
Booklist
[A] love letter, an involving story of the devastating impact of Parkinson's.
New York Times Book Review
[A]lmost too painful to read . . . a powerful argument for more financing for Parkinson's Disease.
Library Journal
Columnist, commentator, and current cohost of Fox TV's Beltway Boys, Kondracke has written a highly personal book, a valentine to his wife of nearly 34 years, Milly. In 1987, this fiercely independent woman began noticing small changes in her handwriting and grip. It marked the beginning of the couple's descent into years of bafflement, testing, hope, and denial, coming to a final if begrudging acceptance of the diagnosis of an unusual variant of Parkinson's disease. Their story is tender, loving, and funny every couple's tale, yet uniquely their own. As Milly slowly loses her abilities, her husband works through his own frustrations and insecurities to take on the role not only of caretaker but of activist in the highly political world of research funding. With Michael J. Fox's announcement of his own bout with Parkinson's, the disease has found a place in the media spotlight, a position that the Kondrackes hope will lead to better treatments and, eventually, a cure. Whether or not it comes in time for Milly, her husband has seen to it that her courage and wit will be long remembered. Recommended for health and inspirational collections. Anne C. Tomlin, Auburn Memorial Hosp. Lib., NY Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Booknews
In this small book (5.25x7.5<">, Kondracke, a regular contributor for the Fox News Channel and co-host of its weekly political show, , chronicles the survival of his marriage in the face of his wife's diagnosis with Parkinson's disease. He describes his transformation from a careerist to a caregiver and disease activist, a process that deepened his religious faith; and he explores the realities of "disease politics," arguing for more government research funding. Annotation c. Book News, Inc., Portland, OR (booknews.com)
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780345451972
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 5/28/2002
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 272
  • Sales rank: 1,539,765
  • Product dimensions: 5.50 (w) x 8.28 (h) x 0.58 (d)

Read an Excerpt

“Marry Milly!”

“Marry Milly!” Joan Kehoe whispered in my ear. Then she repeated it, more insistently. We were at an Italian restaurant, Riccardo’s, the favorite martini-lunch spot for reporters at the Chicago Sun-Times in the 1960s. This may have been the only dinner I ever had there. Joan had introduced me to Millicent Martinez a few months before. We were a fairly large and noisy group and Milly was sitting out of earshot as Joan importuned me. She also couldn’t see the quizzical look on my face, which betrayed what was in my mind: Marry Milly? Out of the question.

Not that I didn’t like her. I did. She was pretty. She was self-assured. And she was exotic, half-Mexican and half-Jewish. But she did not fit my life’s plan, which was to become a big-shot Washington journalist. I figured that the person I planned to be someday should have a Vassar or Wellesley graduate for a wife, or possibly an heiress—a woman whose family connections and intellectually stimulating company could help me attain the goal.

Eventually Milly overwhelmed this stupid idea. Eventually I realized that, wherever I went in life, I would regret it the whole way if she were not with me. So ultimately I followed Joan’s advice. And thanks to that, I’ve lived a love story. But the decision took a while. And God had a hand in it.

In the first instance, though, Joan Smith, formerly Kehoe, deserves the credit. She eventually got a Ph.D. in sociology and went on to become a professor of women’s studies and a dean at the University of Vermont. In 1964, though, Joan was an Irish American housewife and mother who was finishing college, abandoning her straitlaced cultural roots, and serving as spokesperson for the civil rights movement in Chicago. I was a fresh-faced twenty-five-year-old reporter for the Sun-Times who wanted to cover civil rights and politics—and meet women.

Originally I knew Joan just on the phone. She sounded so warm, I wanted to date her and was hugely disappointed to learn she was married—unhappily, as it turned out—and in her thirties. So we became friends. I sympathized strongly with the civil rights movement. The year before, one of my last assignments as a sergeant in U.S. Army Intelligence had been to watch the March on Washington and, if it turned violent, to meet up with troops waiting to be ferried in from nearby Fort Belvoir, Virginia. I listened to Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech with tears rolling down my face.

As a brand-new reporter, my main job was to write obituaries. I was ambitious, though. So, on a day off, I took it upon myself to knock on doors in a white ethnic neighborhood on the Southwest Side to try to understand why people there disliked blacks. They told me that they’d moved from other neighborhoods where, after the first blacks moved in, crime increased and property values collapsed. They alleged that the NAACP and crooked real estate dealers were in cahoots to spread panic. Someone evidently thought I was from the NAACP and called the police, who called my boss, the city editor. He banned me from covering civil rights, though he let me cover politics.

Over the next couple of years, when I covered the Illinois legislature and then national politics, Joan fixed me up with various young women she knew. They included the first African American woman I ever dated and the first woman I ever slept with—the day after which occasion Joan sent me a congratulatory telegram.

In early 1966 she told me she wanted me to meet this friend of hers, Millicent Martinez. Given Joan’s track record, I had every reason to think that Milly would be interesting and, possibly, sexually adventuresome. What Joan told me about her in arranging a dinner date sounded intriguing, too. She was the daughter of two Communists and, like Joan, was a student and anti- Vietnam activist at Chicago’s left-wing Roosevelt University. Joan pronounced Martinez with the accent on the last syllable, not the second. Neither of us knew enough Spanish, or Hispanics, to get it right. In fact, for some months after I met Milly I kept mispronouncing her last name when I introduced her to people, including my parents. Finally she got fed up and corrected me.

Our first date took place at the famous Red Star Inn, a German place on Chicago’s near-North Side that has since closed. Joan was a serious Marxist and yearned for a revolution in America, but her tastes were all upper-middle-class.

What struck me most about Millicent Martinez was that, at twenty-six, she already had a shock of white running along the part in her black hair. Even though Joan had arranged this dinner to fix us up, the dominant subject of the evening was that Joan was giddily in love and had to leave early to meet her new man, Larry Smith, a New York investment banker who was arriving for the weekend. Milly and I drove her to the railway station when we finished with dinner.

Afterward Milly and I went to an unromantic vinyl-and-Formica coffee shop near her apartment in Hyde Park on the South Side. Milly ordered tea. I got interested. Her name is Millicent, and she drinks tea, I thought. This is a classy radical. But it shortly became clear that she was less than radical. She told me that her pal Joan recently had enticed her into joining Students for a Democratic Society and participating in an antiwar sit-in at Roosevelt. Milly and others had been arrested, but Joan hadn’t because she’d left the scene early to look after her children. Milly said she’d given the police a phony name, Rita Torrez, so she wouldn’t have a record and could get a job as a probation counselor with the Cook County Juvenile Court when she graduated from Roosevelt in June. The police had discovered her real identity, though, and two members of Chicago’s notorious intelligence unit, the “Red Squad,” had come to visit her and tried to recruit her to inform on the SDS. She refused. One of them then sent her flowers and tried to call her for a date, she said, but she turned him down.

I was impressed by her personal involvement in matters I was, at best, only observing and writing about. I liked her politics—idealistic, but not rabidly ideological. She was on the executive committee of SDS, she said, but she was the conservative in the group, counseling others to keep demands reasonable and avoid confrontations with the police. She said that when one SDS radical brought a gun to a meeting, she had told him never to do it again. She told me that another guy’s politics were so insane that he’d punched a businessman in the face on Michigan Avenue just for being a businessman.

I don’t remember exactly what I told her about myself, but I must have tried to impress her with my achievements and ambitions. I was a Dartmouth graduate and now was jetting around the country writing about Lyndon Johnson’s War on Poverty, urban race riots, and national politics and getting reasonably frequent front-page play in the newspaper. My ambition was to become a Washington or foreign correspondent. Milly was not bowled over. She clearly knew nothing about Ivy League colleges. The glamour of journalism did not seem to register with her either.

This definitely was not love at first sight, on either side. She considered me nothing more than “clean-cut.” Even after we fell in love, I didn’t consider her really beautiful, though when I look at pictures taken back then I can’t imagine why. She was slender, olive-skinned, and sloe-eyed. She told me that she thought her nose was too big and her legs too skinny, and I guess I believed her.

But we were interested enough in each other—and respectful enough of Joan’s recommendations—that we dated intermittently over the next few months. We went to movies, had dinner, visited Joan, and went window-shopping downtown—one of my favorite cheap things to do. I dated other women, too, including a Vassar graduate I fell into a maddeningly platonic relationship with. Milly was seeing two other men, a chemist and a professor at a junior college, both of whom wanted to marry her.

Even though this was the mid-1960s, the dawn of the sexual revolution, and even though I’d hoped that Milly might be a believer in free love, the reality was different. The best I got for weeks was a kiss good-night at her door, and a rather unpassionate one at that. She put her hands behind her—in her back pockets when she was wearing Levi’s—leaned forward, and pecked.

At twenty-seven, I was ambivalent about sex. On the one hand, I wanted it desperately and thought about it constantly. On the other hand, I just as desperately feared becoming seriously involved with anyone I wasn’t prepared to marry. Moreover, I was ridiculously inexperienced. I was the product of a Victorian upbringing. I was a fat kid and rarely dated in high school. I was scared of women in college. And in 1966 I was still so caught up in 1950s behavior codes that I couldn’t stand it any longer.

So I let women dictate the rules of engagement. If a woman was willing to neck, I’d gladly neck, sometimes till dawn. If, oh so rarely, one was willing to have sex, I’d gladly oblige when fear of commitment didn’t get the best of me. Or, as with Milly, I’d accept the kiss-good-night routine.

After dating for a few months, we advanced to smooching. Once I decided to press my luck and clumsily planted my hand on the front of her shirt. She shot me a look that said, “Who said you could do that?” I blushed, laughed, and suggested we take a walk.

Since we didn’t have sex early on, we talked. She had a fascinating story to tell. Her mother, Ida Lederman, had had a terrible childhood—she was sexually abused by her immigrant father and kept a virtual slave by her stepmother. She’d escaped by getting married to a Jewish artist. She left her first husband quickly and met Milly’s father, Refugio Martinez, at a United Packinghouse Workers strike rally. Ida was beautiful as a young woman. Pictures remind you of Ava Gardner.

Refugio was a passionate, charismatic man with a sad, pockmarked face and prematurely white hair that he transmitted to his daughters. He’d prepared for the priesthood in Tampico, Mexico, but fled to the United States after being warned that his increasing involvement in radical politics was putting his life in danger.

Because his job as an organizer of meatpacking workers kept him moving around the country, Ida, Milly, and Milly’s older sister, Alexandra, were left alone a lot. Ida was the victim of racial prejudice as an Anglo woman married to a Mexican. Once a brick was thrown through a window and nearly hit Alex in her crib. Ida later alleged that Refugio hit her when they fought and once kicked her in the stomach. They separated.

When Milly was three and Alex five, Ida suffered a nervous breakdown and ran away from home, leaving the girls unattended. They subsisted on breakfast cereal for a few days until neighbors called the police. Juvenile authorities found Alex outside their apartment building and took her to the Cook County youth detention facility, known as the Audy Home. Milly hid under a bed and was not discovered. She stayed with neighbors, who called for Refugio to come back to town. He got sole legal custody of them, and for a while they traveled with him, living in hotel rooms, until he placed them with another union organizer and his family in middle-class surroundings in Kansas City.

Read More Show Less

Table of Contents

Thanks ix
Foreword xiii
Introduction xix
1 "Marry Milly!" 1
2 The Old Milly 29
3 Invasion 67
4 Heroine 105
5 The New Mort 141
6 Politics 169
7 God's Work 205
8 Losing Milly 241
Index 277
Read More Show Less

Reading Group Guide

1. How do you personally reconcile the existence of evil in the world with the idea of an all-powerful, all-knowing,
and loving God? Why do you think bad things happen to good people?

2. How would you react if you were diagnosed with a chronic, incurable illness, or if this happened to a person you love? Would your reaction be more like Mort's or
Milly's?

3. The journalist Michael Kinsley, announcing in Time magazine that he has Parkinson's, defended the idea of "denial"—
keeping the disease secret for as long as possible and trying to get on with one's life. He disparaged "aggressive victimhood" or "confrontation"—in other words, going public and demanding action. What would your choice be?

4. Why do you suppose that women are so much more likely to "stick it out" with a chronically ill spouse than men are?

5. Should government—federal, state, or local—provide assistance
(whether in money or nursing services) to spouses caring for a chronically ill mate?

6. Does it strike you as unethical for a journalist to lobby the
White House or Congress for what he or she believes is a good cause?

7. How did you react to the fact that wide disparities—by hundreds, sometimes even thousands of dollars per victim—
exist in federal research funding for various diseases? How do you think federal dollars should be allocated?

8. Should allocations of disease research money be "political"?
Can it be otherwise as long as Congress appropriates the money for medical research?

9. Would you favor creating a dependable, dedicated money source for medical research, such as a 1 percent or 2 percent tax on health insurance premiums or a tax increase on such illness-producing products as tobacco, alcohol, or high-fat foods?

10. Do you believe that human embryos "leftover" at fertility clinics and destined to be discarded should be used to extract stem cells for medical research? If so, should the federal government fund this research?

11. Should the government outlaw the cloning of human embryos for both reproductive and research purposes, as
President Bush advocates?

12. Should terminally ill people have the right to end their own lives? If so, under what circumstances? In hospices,
where they can be kept comfortable as they refuse food and water? Or by assisted suicide, in which a doctor actually administers lethal drugs?

2. How would you react if you were diagnosed with a chronic, incurable illness, or if this happened to a person you love? Would your reaction be more like Mort's or
Milly's?

3. The journalist Michael Kinsley, announcing in Time magazine that he has Parkinson's, defended the idea of "denial"—
keeping the disease secret for as long as possible and trying to get on with one's life. He disparaged "aggressive victimhood" or "confrontation"—in other words, going public and demanding action. What would your choice be?

4. Why do you suppose that women are so much more likely to "stick it out" with a chronically ill spouse than men are?

5. Should government—federal, state, or local—provide assistance
(whether in money or nursing services) to spouses caring for a chronically ill mate?

6. Does it strike you as unethical for a journalist to lobby the
White House or Congress for what he or she believes is a good cause?

7. How did you react to the fact that wide disparities—by hundreds, sometimes even thousands of dollars per victim—
exist in federal research funding for various diseases? How do you think federal dollars should be allocated?

8. Should allocations of disease research money be "political"?
Can it be otherwise as long as Congress appropriates the money for medical research?

9. Would you favor creating a dependable, dedicated money source for medical research, such as a 1 percent or 2 percent tax on health insurance premiums or a tax increase on such illness-producing products as tobacco, alcohol, or high-fat foods?

10. Do you believe that human embryos "leftover" at fertility clinics and destined to be discarded should be used to extract stem cells for medical research? If so, should the federal government fund this research?

11. Should the government outlaw the cloning of human embryos for both reproductive and research purposes, as
President Bush advocates?

12. Should terminally ill people have the right to end their own lives? If so, under what circumstances? In hospices,
where they can be kept comfortable as they refuse food and water? Or by assisted suicide, in which a doctor actually administers lethal drugs?

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Be the first to write a review
( 0 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(0)

4 Star

(0)

3 Star

(0)

2 Star

(0)

1 Star

(0)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
Sort by: Showing all of 4 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 8, 2003

    Championing a Life, Fighting For a Cure

    In order to learn more about a disease that has affected several family members, I read Saving Milly with great interest. I was quickly pulled in. Kondracke writes with honesty about a strong and vital woman, his wife, as well as what it means to be caregiver and spouse to one afflicted with Parkinson¿s Disease. He has much to say in praise of his Milly, while often taking an unglorious view of himself. He admits to insecurities and vanities and weaknesses few of us would admit to in public, let alone to ourselves. Most admirable, perhaps, is the love story intertwined with the story of how both Mort and Milly, each in their own way, cope with PD. In a time when so few relationships survive the minor bumps and bruises of everyday life, this one has survived a major crisis, grown even stronger for the testing. When these two married for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, and with a promise of fidelity... they meant it. Wonderful. While much of what Kondracke writes about the symptoms and treatments of Milly¿s disease were, in basic outlines, already known to me, I was intrigued to read his insights into the politics of a disease. I was not surprised¿ yet nonetheless dismayed. Money rules. Connections count. Nothing like celebrity to shine a spotlight on a particular illness. Hrmph. But so be it, this is reality. And to see it in sharper light of realistic approaches and political power can only help us play the game more effectively. None of us should be unaware of the lies we are too often fed by politicians, but all of us should hold those we vote into office accountable. In the end, it is most important to understand that causes close to our heart must be championed if they are to be cured. Kondracke has given us a window onto a disease that has or will touch many of our lives, a disease that has gotten too little attention, especially prior to exposure gained by Michael J. Fox (who also makes an appearance in this book). It may not be the most typical experience with PD, especially in terms of the kind of care he could provide Milly because of his own celebrity and his own higher income bracket, but that is of less importance than the story of survival achieved with love, grace, compassion, and insight.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 5, 2001

    A Modern Day Knight In Shining Armor

    What a beautiful story about how Love will keep us together. Heartwarming! There should be more men in life like Morton Kondracke. And Im sure more women like his wife Milly. This book comes highly recommended for both fiction and non-fiction readers.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 15, 2001

    A Gritty, Thought Provoking Love Story

    'Saving Milly' is a beautiful, and heart wrenching love story about two very different people, who hold on to the values they cherish when adversity strikes. Morton Kondracke, in simple,soul searching prose, tells his story of love, comitment, sacrifice and faith, without one moment of self pity or sappiness. The well known political commentator pulls no punches as he discusses his beloved wife's devestating illness, and his own life's difficulties and deliemas, as he pursues his roles as a husband, father and writer. A sometimes funny, tender and terrifying story that anyone who loves another human being needs to read. A must for anyone in a caregiving role... as I am.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 10, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

Sort by: Showing all of 4 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)