My Journey with Farrah - Alana Stewart [51]
I don’t have a lot to give materially to my friends, but I can give my friendship and my time. This whole experience has changed forever the way I value friendship. Would someone do this for me? I know Farrah would.
It reminds me of this lovely birthday card Farrah gave me last year that I keep in the drawer next to my bed. On the front it has these two little girls with pigtails, holding hands, walking barefoot on a dirt road. It says, “By my side, step by step…that is where you are for me, that is where I will be for you.” On the inside she wrote the following:
Dearest Alana, not only do I wish you the happiest healthiest birthday but I want to say thank you for your unbelievable friendship. You are my best friend forever and I appreciate you and all you’ve done and continue to do from the bottom of my heart. I love you, sweet girl, and you are, as my mother would say, as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside.
All my love,
Farrah
We called ourselves “The Do Nothing Girls.”
In 2001 we went down to Don Soffer’s big sprawling house in Harbour Island with our friend Nicollette Sheridan and my son Ash. Farrah and I did nothing but sleep late and lie around the pool (hence our nickname).
We took the Jeep one day because we wanted to drive down to the beach. When we got there, we walked along this beautiful deserted beach together, leaving our footprints in miles of pink sand. Farrah got the brilliant idea that she wanted to take the sand back to use in the sculptures she was doing for an exhibit at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. We went back to the house, got large baggies, then went back to the beach and filled them with sand, but they were so damn heavy that we could barely lift them.
“I can’t believe you’re making me carry this!” I complained.
But I did. We kept walking with our bags of sand in our arms, lugging them all the way back to the house.
When we were packing to leave Harbour Island, Farrah loaded the bags of sand in a box to take with her. I knew this was a bad idea; it was like tempting fate with customs. But that’s the thing about Farrah: when she decides she’s going to do something, it’s really hard to talk her out of it. Believe me I tried. In the end she won and the sand came with us.
We flew back with the sand on Don’s private plane and landed in Miami to go through customs. Not surprisingly, when the customs officers got to the box of pink sand, there was much discussion and delay. The official finally asked, “Did you get it off a private beach?”
We looked at each other and we didn’t know what to say—we were afraid they’d arrest us if we said the wrong thing.
After a long pause, Farrah flashed the officials one of her brightest smiles: “Can you make that a multiple-choice answer?”
Sure enough, we got through just fine, the bags of pink sand sitting pretty in our suitcases.
HARD CHOICES
June 25, 2008
I’m so stressed out! Why can’t life be simple? Sean’s friend and publicist, Lizzie Grubman, called and said that Sean had written this incredibly touching letter to read to me at his graduation from rehab on Sunday. It says I’m the most important person in his life and the most supportive. Lizzie said it made her cry and that I have to be there on Sunday, in Los Angeles. How can I do this? Farrah is having a terrible day, with pain and nausea. Dr. Jacob had to give her so much medication that she’s been sleeping all day. How can I leave her? I was thinking that maybe, if I can get his show, Celebrity Rehab, to fly me home, I could come in for Sean’s graduation