Mark Steven Porro's Blog

What happens when life throws you the ultimate curveball — going from Hollywood auditions and bachelor life in L.A. to caregiving for your mom back in New Jersey? Our guest this week, Mark Steven Porro, not only lived it, he wrote an award-winning book about it “A Cup of Tea on the Commode.”

Mark joins Hafa & David to talk about the funny, awkward, and downright absurd side of caregiving. From serving tea in the most unusual places, to turning everyday struggles into heartfelt comedy, Mark proves that even the toughest chapters of life come with punchlines.

If you’ve ever had to help out family, survived a ridiculous hospital visit, or argued over the thermostat with your parents — you’ll be laughing (and relating) all episode long.

Episode Highlights:
• The story behind the title “A Cup of Tea on the Commode”
• Finding humor in the chaos of caregiving
• From acting & design in Hollywood → caregiving → award-winning author
• Comedy game: Would You Rather: Caregiver Edition
• Mark’s advice on turning struggles into stories worth sharing

To learn more about Mark Steven Porro, click here. To get your “A Cup of Tea on the Commode,” click here.

#Humor #Memoir #eldercare #acupofteaonthecommode #hdcomedypodcast

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This article first appeared in “The Ridgewood News” and “The Record”

In his book, “A Cup of Tea on the Commode,” Ridgewood native Mark Porro recounts his 3½ years of caring for his 89-year-old mother, Genevieve, at her village home.

Porro was the least likely of Genevieve’s six children to assume charge of her care in 2011. The 54-year-old single man had pursued an “adventurous” career path since graduating from Ridgewood High School in 1975 and Ohio State University in 1980 with a degree in industrial design: Hollywood actor, snack business entrepreneur, and helping with his sister’s Michigan design firm.

Genevieve had moved back home after four years in an assisted care facility. Her dog Zuri had been involved in a biting incident, and she refused to move anywhere else without her pet. Over the next five years, Porro’s nearby siblings supervised a revolving door of visiting and live-in caretakers at the family home while they watched Genevieve morph from a “well-mannered, well-behaved happy-go-lucky mother” into a “not-so-lovable character like Archie Bunker.”

Click here to continue reading. Click here to learn more about Mark Steven Porro.

#Humor #Memoir #eldercare #acupofteaonthecommode #ridgewoodnews #bergenrecord #northjersey.com

The post How do you cope when the mother and child roles get reversed? appeared first on A Cup of Tea on the Commode.

I never believed in angels, but for some reason they believed in me, and I’m truly thankful for it. They kept watch over me during the many crazy, death-defying stunts I indulged in as a kid.

I hopped on freight and passenger trains, and—only after learning the hard way—made sure to hit the ground running when hopping off. Still, chances were, momentum slammed me ass-first onto the sidewalk. Not cracking my skull was a good day. I crawled through dark, dank sewer pipes, never knowing where or if they ended, or what might be flowing or creeping my way. Thinking about tight spaces all these years later makes me cringe.

For reasons I will never understand, my friends and I—fully clothed and in sneakers—would jump into the roaring rapids of the Hohokus River after a hard rain. We floated over waterfalls and around boulders while dodging logs and debris for what seemed like miles. The only escape before reaching the Atlantic Ocean was to grab hold of pricker bushes spilling over the riverbanks and pull your soggy, beaten, and now bloody self to safety. We called it body surfing. Sane people, no doubt, called it something else. If my mom or dad caught wind of any of these escapades, they surely would have done what trains, sewers, or that raging river never could: put me out of their misery.

How my parents survived their “sixpack” of kids confounds me to this day. Seeing what they went through while only knowing a fraction of what we did played a big part in me not wanting, or having, children. I came close once. It happened in the fall of 1984, soon after I moved to Los Angeles. We met at a Hollywood party. For fun, I assumed a French accent and poured glass after glass of French wine for her, for others, and many for myself. I remember little of what happened after, but in the morning, she said my accent did the trick. I blamed the wine.

A few weeks later, I got a call with the news. She ended it with, “Daddy arranged everything, so not to worry.” I had no say in the matter. I guess I could have, but staying quiet seemed right at the time.

And there I was some thirty years later embracing “parenthood.” Only this time the child was my ninety-year-old mother. I jumped in with gusto and happily took on all of the usual first-time parent duties. I lost sleep . . . lots and lots of sleep.

The physical tasks, though time-consuming, were manageable, and with practice became routine. They were nothing compared to the emotional roller coaster I had found myself on. I didn’t expect it. Didn’t want it. Tried to ignore it. But it crept up on me as I realized this “child” would sleep more hours, not fewer. Her vocabulary would not increase but diminish to barely a word. She would never again walk on her own. Never outgrow her dependency. She would only continue to decline. And—most difficult—I had to accept the fact that I would not have her for much longer.

My mother’s life was in my hands. I needed her to understand that.

“Do you trust me?” I asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Do you understand I will do everything in my power to keep you healthy and safe?”

She smiled and nodded.

“That means I’m in charge. And that means you must listen and obey me.”

Her mood shifted in an instant. She looked me dead in the eye and puckered up her lips. I wasn’t sure if this was a sign of surrender or one wishing me luck. I kissed her and hoped for the best.

After a particularly stressful day for the both of us, Mom shot me a curious look and asked, “Why are you doing this?”

I paused and took a deep breath. “Because it’s an honor for a son to take care of his mother,” I answered in all sincerity.

Taken aback, she replied, “It is?”

Her surprise stung me on many levels. I felt the need to reassure her. “Of course. How long did you take care of me?” I said. She was unconvinced, so I continued. “Who forgave me when I shelled all those lobster tails and turned your lovely New Year’s presentation into a pile of white meat? And who forgave me when her expensive but noisy spoked hubcaps flew off her car after I tried to silence them with grease? And who didn’t tell Dad I was suspended for two days in the seventh grade for slamming the vice principal’s door?”

And with that, she smiled.

But her question got me thinking. Why did I take this on? Why did I give up my carefree bachelor’s life to move back in to my childhood home? Yes, I was in a position to help. I had no children, no pets, and no current relationship tying me to Los Angeles—at least none that I knew of. My acting career had stalled long ago. And after devoting fifteen years of blood, sweat, and plenty of tears to my organic popcorn business, Grandpa Po’s Originals barely had a kernel of life left in it.

Perhaps the pain of overhearing my brother Michael channeling Dad’s tirades about money played a role. Mom’s careless spending continued to be an issue as long as telemarketers had access to her, and she had access to a credit card.

Maybe I did it for selfish reasons. I wanted more than the eight days I got with my dad.

Maybe I needed a win. I needed to accomplish something meaningful, which, at that point in my life, I felt that I hadn’t. I was good at many things, but I never stuck with one long enough to excel above all others. I got bored and moved on. That was my MO. When I met my niece’s new father-in-law at her wedding in Bermuda, he asked what I did for work.

“I started five nonprofit businesses,” I said.

He looked at me like I was Jesus.

“None were intended to be,” I added quickly.

We shared a good laugh and returned to our Dark ’n’ Stormys.

Taking this on, perhaps the biggest challenge of my life, could be my saving grace. After all, it was my mom. She never once gave up on me. So, I committed myself not only to her but to my five siblings. They all put their trust in me, and no matter how difficult—physically, mentally, or emotionally—this journey became, I was determined not to let any of them down. This time there would be no moving on until she decided to move on.

But during those difficult times, I often asked myself the same question: “Why are you doing this?”

Then I’d see her smile, or I’d catch one of her witty comebacks, or I’d melt when she puckered up for a kiss, and I had my answer.

So, maybe those angels who’d saved me all those times had a plan all along. Do I believe in them now? I believe I do.

A chapter from A Cup of Tea on the Commode For more information, click here.

#Humor  #Memoir  #eldercare  #acupofteaonthecommode

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Take 50+ years of life, add thousands of traumatic experiences, sprinkle in a touch of arrogance and what do you get? A Middle Age Mess, where noted author/curmudgeon Dan Indante walks you through everything you need to know to stumble, bumble and fail your way through your Not So Golden Years. Or as my Dad would say, “The Golden Years, the ham with them!”

Mark joins host Dan to discuss those not so golden years, and of course his multiple-award-winning memoir “A Cup of Tea on the Commode.”

Watch or to listen only, click here. Either way, enjoy an encore performance! To find out more about Mark, click here.

#Humor #Memoir #eldercare #acupofteaonthecommode #middleagemess @DanIndante

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Yes, I lied to one of my heroes, but I didn’t lie to get the job. 

I enjoyed many highlights in Hollywood. My first and second came when filming an episode of Hill Street Blues, my first television role. Booking that role alone was a highlight, as my goal in coming to Hollywood was to get on that show. And less than two years later, voilà. But that cake came with icing. During filming, I met a gentleman, an amiable man in his eighties, who sat in the courtroom as an extra. The day was long, well past eleven hours, but this man continued to enjoy himself, seeming to glean energy from the much younger cast and crew. When I asked why he spent his time here and hung in after so many hours, he said, “I love being around all of you young, creative people. And I love coming to this lot. It keeps me close to my daughter.” “Who’s your daughter?” I asked. He said, “Mary Tyler Moore.” Of course. We were filming at MTM Studios, owned by you now-know-who.

Other Hollywood highlights included appearing on a Seinfeld episode alongside my father. Getting the part, working with, and getting fired but still getting paid on The Golden Girls. Yes, still a highlight. But I made the “Girls” look older than they were. So, the producers replaced me with a much older man. I also worked with Tom Hanks in Castaway, directed by Robert Zemeckis, produced by Steven Spielberg.

But right up there at the top was meeting and auditioning for my comedy hero, Mel Brooks. When I was a kid, every time I saw him on Johnny Carson, not only did tell hilarious stories, but he also often jumped on Johnny’s chair, couch, or desk. I thought that guy is so much fun. If I ever had a Hollywood party, Mel Brooks would be the first I’d invite. Though I’m not sure my furniture would feel the same.

My agent sent me out on a casting call for Mel Brook’s latest comedy, Dracula: Dead and Loving It. I stepped into the audition room and was shocked to not only be greeted by Mr. Brooks himself, but by many of the character actors from his movies who flanked him. I stood and stared at the faces of what could be considered, the Mel Brooks Hall of Fame, whom all seemed to have a say in who got the job. Though they put me at ease right away, I still had to settle myself before I began.

My role required a British accent. After, he asked if I was really British. Having a George Washington I cannot tell a lie kind of moment, I said, “No, I’m from New Jersey.” Mel said, “You did great. However, for union reasons, we need a real Brit, but don’t go anywhere, wait outside.” A good sign, I thought, until I saw a room packed with actors who apparently got the same note. 

A few minutes later, Mr. Brooks entered the room, hopped up on a table, and graciously thanked all of us for coming in. Then he called out, “Porro.” I stepped forward; all eyes in the room were now on me. Mr. Brooks then asked, “Are you related to Joe Porro?” Being honest just lost me a job in a Mel Brooks film, so the heck with that. I said, “Yeah, he’s my uncle.” Might not be a total lie since we were most likely related in some way. Then Mr. Brooks said, “Tell him he still owes me the ten bucks I lent him when we were stationed at Fort Dix.” “I’ll tell him,” I said.

When I got home, I made Mr. Brooks a custom thank-you card (I had a greeting card line. Another one of my non-profit endeavors). I added a $15.00 check and a note. “I gave my uncle Joe your message. He told me to send him a check with interest and tell him to get off my back already.”

After receiving it, his office called. “Of course, Mr. Brooks could not accept the check.” I knew that, but that’s not what I cared about. I asked, “Did Mel laugh?” She said, “Yes.” And I pumped my fist in victory. Even though I didn’t get the job, my lie to Mel Brooks was totally worth it because it made my comedy hero laugh. And that just may be the pièce de résistance of all my Hollywood highlights.

To discover more about the author, click here.

 #acupofteaonthecommode #melbrooks #hollywood #hollywoodhighlights

The post That time I lied to Mel Brooks  appeared first on A Cup of Tea on the Commode.

Just when we thought awards season was over, we received this announcement. Not only are we golden, but we’re global.

“Congratulations! Your book  A Cup of Tea on the Commode has been awarded the GOLD medal in the category Parenting & Relationships – Aging at the Global Book Awards.”

The Global Book Awards recognizes author with global appeal in the publishing industry. In this modern age of publishing, books need to be appraised not only by their content and writing style, but also by the way they present and market themselves to the prospective buyer. Whether that is in its creative book cover design, its captivating book description, its strong ratings on important bookstores like Amazon, or even the number of reviews it has collected from its readers – they all count on how a book should be judged.

We were happy with sixteen literary awards, but seventeen, a gold medal, and with “global appeal.” Well, well.

To get your A Cup of Tea on the Commode, click here. Or to find out more, click here.

#eldercare #agingparents #acupofteaonthecommode #globalbookawards

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In this episode of The On Purpose Podcast, host Jerrod Hardy welcomes guest Mark Steven Porro, author of “A Cup of Tea on the Commode.” Mark shares his deeply personal and unexpectedly humorous experiences as a caregiver for his aging mother. Through candid storytelling, he reveals the emotional challenges and delightful moments that come with elder care, emphasizing the importance of humor and empathy. Join them for an inspiring conversation filled with valuable insights that resonate with anyone navigating the complexities of caregiving.

Click to watch. Or to listen, click here.

To learn about the author, click here. To order your “A Cup of Tea…” click here.

3 Key Takeaways:
1. Embrace Humor in Caregiving: Mark Porro emphasizes the power of humor in challenging situations, sharing how laughter provided relief and connection during his caregiving journey for his mother. Making his mom laugh became a daily goal, ultimately enriching their bond and making tough times more bearable.

2. Empathy and Self-Care are Vital: Through his experience, Mark highlights the importance of empathy in caregiving, understanding the emotional needs of loved ones. He also learned that caregivers must prioritize their own well-being to provide the best support, suggesting regular breaks and maintaining physical health to avoid burnout.

3. Finding Joy in the Journey: Mark encourages caregivers to find joy in their everyday experiences, treating each moment with their loved ones as a special opportunity. He shares stories of meaningful interactions, like making his mom feel beautiful, illustrating that even in the toughest circumstances, love and dignity can shine through.

#eldercare #agingparents #acupofteaonthecommode #theonpurposepodcast

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Today, in honor of the anniversary of Genevieve’s journey to Heaven, here’s the final chapter of “A Cup of Tea on the Commode.”

I stand frozen in that surreal moment, staring at Mom. The pulsating air mattress continues to breathe, keeping her lifeless body afloat. I should turn it off, but I don’t. The sound comforts me. Then a strange force compels me to look out her bedroom window. To my surprise, that parade of young children appeared. The parade Mom saw so often. All well-dressed and looking like they’d just escaped Mass at Our Lady of Mount Carmel. The girls in pigtails, ponytails, or pixie cuts wear frilly white dresses, white lace socks, and patent-leather shoes. Each carries flowers: single stem or bouquet. The boys with their combed hair, starched white shirts, dress pants, and shiny black shoes. They hold brightly colored balloons, just as Mom described.

As they round the cul-de-sac and pass by our house, the children wave to me. I wave back. But when I see the last child I freeze, but my heart jumps. It’s the girl from the black-and-white photo on Mom’s front wall. Eight-year-old Genevieve. She’s dressed in a frilly white dress and patent-leather shoes and holds a posy of daisies. But now she also wears Mom’s earrings, the same earrings Mom wanted to wear in heaven.

The parade moves on, but young Genevieve lingers. She flashes me a familiar smile. I turn back to the bed. The stress on Mom’s face has melted away, as have many of her years. Her rosy complexion is back. For the first time in weeks, she looks at peace. I turn back to the window. Young Genevieve is gone. The sidewalk is empty but for the posy of daisies.

And I say, “On the ball, Mom. On the ball.”

May your cups of tea and bowls of sherbet continue to be plentiful in Heaven.

To learn more, click here. To get your multi-award-winning “A Cup of Tea on the Commode” click here.

#eldercare #agingparents #acupofteaonthecommode #GenevievesVision #MarksVision

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As we approach the eleventh anniversary of my mother’s passing, the spitting image of her appeared in my little village in the South of France. And she was, of course, shopping, just like Mom. Small worlds.

Some images of the real Genevieve can be found here. And you can get your multi-award-winning A Cup of Tea on the Commode here.

#eldercare #agingparents #acupofteaonthecommode #smallworlds

The post Small Worlds appeared first on A Cup of Tea on the Commode.

Mark walks us through taking care of his mother in her last days, the slow death he grieved along the way, and his humor he brought to the story. Mark’s book, “A Cup of Tea on the Commode,” has won 16 awards (and counting!) and shows the real and raw moments of caregiving while working with his siblings’ strengths and boundaries.

You can find Mark’s book ⁠here⁠ and find him ton his website ⁠here.

#eldercare #agingparents #acupofteaonthecommode #beentheredunnthat #AngelaDunn-Cartledge

The post Finding Joy in Caregiving: A Son’s Journey appeared first on A Cup of Tea on the Commode.