Feb. 2014 /Jimmy Whitmore, Mark Harmon, me, Scott Bakula
Disappointment is a drag. A friend or loved one lets you down once again. You over, or undercook the turkey on your first Thanksgiving with the in-laws. You fumble a pass, blow the putt, or shoot an air ball in a high stakes game. Maybe the job you were counting on that everyone told you was surely yours, goes to someone else.
As an actress handling dismay over the latter is in the mental contract. You can’t be an artist without managing disappointment on an exponential scale. We eat it for lunch, as do most people in sales. Unfortunately, we are selling not only our talent, but our very essence as a human being. It’s a tough one that I’ve grappled with for decades.
In 2014 I experienced a double dose of this more superficial brand of dismay. It’s not the life and death[read full post]
One balmy evening on vacation my husband and I closed down a restaurant chatting with a lovely couple also from Los Angeles. The husband had recently completed sound editing on both the O.J. Simpson scripted series with Cuba Gooding Jr., and ROOTS 2016. I told him it was ironic that my vacation reading of choice was to finally finish Simon Northrup’s painful but riveting autobiography “Twelve Years a Slave”, and not only had I done that, but I had devoured the lives of Frederick Douglass, and slave Josiah Henson as well in the Kindle package of books.
Fast forward to a few weeks later at home watching the extraordinarily educational OJ: MADE IN AMERICA five part documentary series on ESPN. We vividly lived the OJ saga in our neck of the woods with constant circling helicopters and lookie-loos on Bundy slowing traffic for years as we locals ran errands. Had the[read full post]
MY SOLE SOUL ID
Snapshot roles lived and played 1956-2016
My husband and I wearily arrived home from our post Christmas vacation last month. After tucking away the last of my packed items, I climbed into bed with the satisfaction of an organized life and a new day ahead. My eyes flashed open. I had left my IPAD on the plane! I could see my hand neatly tucking it into the seat pocket in my typical nesting fashion. What had I done?
48 hours of high anxiety passed as I contacted the airlines, learned about locking apple devices, changed every pertinent password I could think of, and agonized over the message flashing on my computer that someone was attempting to use my Apple ID.
Bottom line I was freaking out because some unscrupulous person was trying to steal my identity and I had allowed them in the door. It wasn’t fun.
The next night we watched[read full post]
Christmas in the 60's with our "walking doll" gifts from Dis and Rudolph.
I love the Christmas season. I am one of those people who starts the holiday music On Dec 1st with no going back until New Year’s day. Nat King Cole, Harry Belafonte, and Andy Williams, fill both car and home while visions of Jimmy Durante’s “Frosty” dance a jig in my merry head.
I am a child of the 60’s when life was a lot simpler and seemingly sweeter. Christmas was a time of great joy and warming anticipation. The worries of the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Cold War, or our parent’s grown up troubles slowly melted away with each forming icicle and frozen windowpane.
Every year my great Aunt Izola, known to us as “Dis”, would arrive with my Uncle Rudolph laden with enormous bags from Thalhimers. My sister and brother and I found it difficult to breathe as[read full post]
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