Phil Donahue, the incredible daytime moderator, is dead. He was 88.
Donahue passed on “calmly” at his home Sunday, August 18, following a long disease. He was encircled by his significant other of 44 years, Marlo Thomas, as well as “his sister, his youngsters, grandkids and his darling brilliant retriever, Charlie,” as indicated by a proclamation imparted to The present time.
Brought into the world in 1935, Donahue started his vocation in media in the last part of the 1950s. In the wake of filling in as a neighborhood correspondent in his local Ohio, Donahue sent off his eponymous television show. It at first circulated on a neighborhood CBS subsidiary prior to changing to a nearby NBC partner in Dayton, Ohio in 1967. After three years it was gotten for partnership and circulated around the country.
His television show was known for covering disputable subjects from youngster maltreatment in the Catholic Church to the previous great wizard of the Knights of the KKK.
The Phil Donahue Show, later different to Donahue, made ready for future daytime syndicated programs.
Donahue’s show was quick to permit crowd individuals to address visitors.
“At some point, I just went out in the crowd, and it’s reasonable there would be no Donahue show on the off chance that I hadn’t some way or another coincidentally gotten the crowd,” Donahue told WGN in a meeting.
As well as making ready for other daytime has, for example, Oprah Winfrey and Sally Jesse Raphael, Donahue won 20 Emmy Grants and most as of late was granted the Official Decoration of Opportunity by President Biden.
Donahue’s family mentioned in lieu of blossoms gifts be made to St. Jude Kids’ Exploration Medical clinic or the Phil Donahue/Notre Woman Grant Asset.
Phil Donahue, we will miss you. Much thanks to you for every one of your commitments to daytime TV. May you find happiness in the hereafter.
My Blood Chilled When I Discovered What Was Hidden in My Husband’s Drawer the Day After We Moved In Together
Freya was eager to start her new life as a newlywed when she moved into her husband George’s ancestral home. However, when Valerie, the housemaid, hinted at George’s hidden life, their marriage vows quickly began to unravel.
Just off the high of our wedding, I moved into George’s grand family home — a place that seemed lifted from a storybook with its towering ceilings, elegant arches, and gardens blooming with flowers. George had been keen on me settling in before we jetted off to our honeymoon in the South of France.
But not all was as idyllic as it appeared. From the start, Valerie, the maid, cast glances my way that seemed to shout, “You’re an outsider.” Despite the chill in her gaze, I was determined to make this my new home. Valerie would just have to accept that.
A few days after moving in, I decided to prepare a big breakfast for everyone in the house, including George’s younger siblings who still lived there.
While I bustled around the kitchen, Valerie watched my every move with sharp eyes as she cleaned around me. Her presence made me uneasy. When I went to grab my phone to look up a recipe, it was nowhere to be found.
“Have you seen my phone?” I asked Valerie, sure it had been right there on the table.
She simply shook her head without looking up.
“I’d get breakfast ready quickly if I were you,” she remarked coldly. “The family will be down soon.”
Heeding her advice, I focused on finishing the breakfast. After she left the kitchen, I found my phone on the seat she had just vacated. But it was the message on the screen that flipped my world upside down:
“Check your husband’s drawer. The top left one. Then RUN!”
Heart racing, I hurried to our bedroom, replaying the warning in my mind. Valerie had already tidied up our room by then.
With a heavy sense of foreboding, I opened the drawer. Inside, I discovered a bundle of letters bound with an old ribbon and an antique key. The letters were from George to someone named Elena.
Sitting on our bed, I read each letter, heart sinking further with every word of love and promises made to another woman.
The last letter was a farewell, dated just days before George proposed to me.
Curious about the key, I asked George’s sister Ivy about it. “It might go to the attic,” she suggested, noting it was George’s favorite hideaway.
In the attic, the truth was starkly displayed. The walls were adorned with photos of George and a woman—presumably Elena. Each image, a testament to their relationship.
Underneath one of the photos, an ultrasound image was pinned, marking another revelation—George and Elena were expecting a child.
How could he have kept this from me?
As I absorbed the magnitude of his betrayal, Valerie appeared in the doorway.
“You weren’t meant to find out like this,” she admitted softly.
“You knew?” I confronted her.
She nodded. “Elena is my sister. She thought you deserved to know. I placed those letters this morning.”
“And the baby?” My voice broke with the question.
Valerie leaned against the wall, explaining how George had fallen in love with Elena, a former maid, and how everything changed when they discovered the baby had Down syndrome. George couldn’t handle the implications.
Valerie and I then faced the family in the living room, revealing everything as George walked in.
“Is this true?” his father demanded, eyes locked on George.
George’s silence confirmed everything.
The fallout was swift. George was disinherited, his future resources redirected to support Elena and her child.
As for me, I was granted a swift divorce, and the family compensated me with assets originally intended for George.
I used some of those assets to start a foundation for children with disabilities, now managed by Valerie, with guidance from me and George’s mother, who had disowned him.
In my position, what would you have done?
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