Protect the Family

In the new, emotionally affecting fourth season of The Bear that just dropped on Hulu, there is a conversation about your work family vs. your family family.  Are they separate?  Do they overlap? 

Or do people you love or are close to simply become a part of YOUR family in one big tent if you decide this is so?

If it worked for Mary, who are we to argue?

It’s an interesting cultural question right now as Americans in towns across the country witness members of their families – some of them blood relatives and others friends, neighbors and co-workers – being grabbed, handcuffed and arrested outside their homes, at their jobs, or right off of the street.

The vast majority of these people (Note: The last estimate I heard is 90%) are, in reality, not “the worst of the worst violent criminals” despite how many times this lie gets repeated by the current administration or across the airwaves of Fox News. 

My blanket response to Fox News

Saying something over and over again does not make it true.  Nor does wishing for it to stop make it go away on its own. 

Especially when you can’t help but see the horrific arrests and sometimes beatings as plain as day on social media websites everywhere.

Or anywhere else you might get your news. 

Even, like, a newspaper.

Yes, a newspaper Grandma.

Diehard print journalism major that I am, even I must admit the most powerful of these stories come courtesy of ordinary citizens who simply whip out their cell phones and film videos of these purposely unidentified masked “enforcers”, often not in any discernible uniform, chasing people they know down the street or through vegetable gardens, cuff them and, if necessary, beat them into restraint before throwing them in an unmarked van and driving off to who knows where.

I can’t speak for anyone else but I can tell you I am 100% sure that if this happened to a member of my work family, family family or anyone else I cared about, filming it would be the least of what I’d do.

As one of Woody Allen’s characters commented in Manhattan on dealing with Nazis:

..A satirical piece in the Times is one thing, but bricks and baseball bats get right to the point.

Yes, I know whole swaths of my students (and perhaps you) don’t like it when I quote lines from Woody Allen movies, but I am who I am and Nazis are who they are.

Still, at the end of the day there is this one truth:

The vast majority of us will fight for our “families” in ferocious and unexpected ways when push comes to shove. 

Say it together now

They might work our last nerve or be a key element in a backstory of resentment.  But something happens when an outsider picks on them – or does worse. 

Suddenly you find yourself brandishing the nearest weapon available at those who want to do them in.  Or group thinking some ingenious scheme to keep them safe, or at least out of harm’s way, until you can come up with a better plan.

(Note: For me, it’s usually a sharp, snide, threatening flurry of cutting insults or pithy, bitchy phrases.  Unless it’s Nazis).

Addams Family rules

You might be totally pissed off at your family member, after the dust settles, for their behavior. Or for putting you in this position.  You might even wonder where the resolve came from.  But what you don’t do is regret it. 

Ever.   

In a way, that is what most of us will likely come away with after watching iconic Law and Order: SVU actress/director Mariska Hargitay’s raw, honest and highly original new HBO documentary, My Mom Jayne. 

Love them

For those who had no idea, Hargitay is the daughter of the late, one-time world-renowned 1950s blonde bombshell, B movie actress, Jayne Mansfield.   But at three years old, riding in a car with her mother and two of her siblings, she endured a fatal crash that killed Jayne, her lawyer boyfriend and the man who was driving them. 

Miraculously all three children survived.  But, as Hargitay admits, she has spent a lifetime running away not so much from the event, which she has no memory of, but the legacy of the high-pitched, made-up, girlie-voice and Hollywood blondeness her very famous mother left behind.

And, as it turns out, a lot more. (Note: No spoilers here.  Promise!).

You better not, Chairy!

Though what makes the film a must-see is not only what we learn about Jayne (Note: Among many other things, she was classically trained on the violin and piano, spoke five languages fluently and had an IQ of 163). It’s how after a lifetime of running away from everything she represented, and by putting her own antipathy at the center of the narrative, she manages to rescue the real Jayne from the neat little Tinseltown sarcophagus Hollywood so ably arrested and hermetically sealed her into all those decades ago.

Full Confession:  Mariska’s Olivia Benson on SVU is one of my all-time favorite television characters.  Tough, smart, brave and sensitive over 26 seasons and someone who could deal with Nazis and Nazi-like behavior far better than I could advise. 

In fact (Note: Full confession #2): On more than one occasion, while watching the news, I have actually asked myself:  #WWOBD? 

Words to live by

That is, if she actually existed and could save us from our world in 60 minutes with commercials. (Note: Oh, of course, I know she’s not REAL… Or, well, totally… I think).

In any event, watch My Mom Jayne and see if you don’t see the best parts of her in this documentary. 

And then look at all of those people standing up for members of their families, chosen or not, across the country.

Never stop fighting

And then consider that if, in creating that character all those years ago, the SVU writers and actress didn’t draw on the qualities exhibited by the best of Americans that were already out there. 

People who would go to great lengths to protect the innocent or unjustly categorized.  Especially if it was someone they cared about.

Jack Johnson – “Better Together”

Les Miz, Sean Penn, and 33 years of love

Chair, here.  Quick story –

It was 33 years ago this weekend that my husband and I had our first “date.”  Well, actually it didn’t start out that way. 

I was taking him to a party because a mutual friend of ours in NY told me there was this guy he went to school with who’d just moved to LA to get his PhD in film. 

And he didn’t know many people and he thought we had similar sensibilities.

He emphasized this wasn’t a fix-up, more just a way to show this guy around and introduce him to some friends.

I know I know #duh

That was fine because it’d been more than a year since I extricated myself from a very troubled relationship and had finally decided I was done with dating, commitment phobic men and, um, men in general.

Anyway, my husband rang my doorbell while I was blasting the Les Miserables soundtrack and about to dump the garbage.  When I opened it I remember here was this cute guy in a vintage vest and, well, since I wasn’t dating it really didn’t matter.

Sorry Colm, but you should really hear my “Bring Him Home”

I wasn’t embarrassed in the least.  In fact, I just told him to hold on while I dumped the garbage.

Unbeknownst to me, he loved Les Miz and somehow found my behavior rather charming.

Then, we went to the party.

There were lots of gay men there and I had in advance told the friend of mine who was having this shindig that I was bringing someone new to town that wanted to meet people.  Well, this particular friend took me very seriously and at some point introduced him to a blonde guy his boyfriend knew who worked at a bank, thinking it would be a match.

It was then that I began to get….jealous?

This basically sums it up

But how could that be?  Just because this guy from NY and I were having some fun conversations on the way to this party, following a long talk on the phone a few nights before? 

Oh, whatever.  And who really cares if he is now taking to this blonde guy who works at a bank.  I have loads of good conversations with lots of people.  I’m known for giving good conversation. 

WHAT? Everything IS fine!

In any event, time went by and I mingled with others.  But at various points I kept spying the guy I brought talking on and off to this blonde guy, who truly wasn’t all that good-looking, especially if you didn’t go in for that type.   

In fact, I couldn’t imagine who would.  Not that I really cared. 

Uh oh Chairy #catchingfeelings

But suddenly the group I was talking to was disbanding and I turned and suddenly saw the NY guy I had brought, sort of looking in my general direction.  So I figured this was a cue for me to go over and, well….rescue him???

I did and by that time his group was also dispersing, and that blonde banker (?) along with it.  We talked for a bit, a few people left and somehow this NY guy who could never in a million years be my husband, and I, decided to clear out a bit early.  He looked a bit awkward and bored at that point anyway, and, well, I didn’t want him to feel that way.

It was Saturday night so we decided to take a walk in the only neighborhood in L.A. two gay guys would even think would be fun to walk around in at that time – West Hollywood.

Cue my Grinchy heart growing three times

At which point, I proceeded to answer some of his questions and tell him a bit about myself, what I did and, well…who knows what else.  It was easy to open up to him and I kept thinking, wow, he’s a good listener and I guess he finds this interesting and funny because why else would he keep asking me to keep going and occasionally laugh at my self-deprecating humor?

Of course, he remembers this as mostly a long monologue about a screenplay I was writing at the time that, though he didn’t find uninteresting, seemed beside the point of why we were walking.

Me, but more charming of course

When somehow the walk ended and I drove him back to his small apartment downtown on the USC campus he asked me if I wanted to come upstairs.  Sean Penn, who was then married to Madonna and in the tabloids every other day for punching out paparazzi, was hosting Saturday Night Live that night, and well, for those who weren’t around then, just know this was a potential HUGE event because, well, ANYTHING could happen.

What I learned from that night is that at ANY moment in time ANYTHING can and WILL happen.   And often when you least expect it.

I guess I’m pro Cupid!

Thirty-three years later it might seem a little sad that we are this weekend limited in what we can do for our anniversary in light of the pandemic.  But wouldn’t you know that the gay gods in the universe have provided once again.

They scheduled the fabulous Adele to make her hosting debut on Saturday Night Live where she will step back into the international spotlight for the first time in a long while after a huge weight loss – wearing designer clothes and, no doubt, hawking a bit of her about to be released latest album.

Check and mate.

Life is often perfectly flawed but, let’s face it, sometimes it can be flawlessly perfect. 

And, almost always, at a time when you least expect it.

One Day More – Cast of Les Miserables