and that's a wrap

If you don’t look forward to something, it always turns out to be enjoyable after all. (Well, except for dental work.) It’s like Murphy’s Law in reverse.

So yes, the party was fun. It was fun to watch the younger cast members enjoying their bits of limelight, mostly with refreshingly little affectation. It was fun to sit with the post-production folk and hear about their world which used to be my world. It was fun to talk to a guy who shared some former employers with me, to trade gossip and snide comments about these ghosts from my past. It was fun to watch the gag reel and hear the crew guffaw at their lives onscreen. It was fun to meet the show runner, an extremely talented man, and tweak him just a little. It was almost fun to meet the show creator, except that I forgot to say how much I love the show. Um, oops. Next time?

But really three encounters made the evening for me. Each in different ways, but ultimately all in the same way. First Dan and I made our way to one of the stars of the show, someone whose work as an actor I’ve admired for a long time. He’s gone on record as the father of a high functioning autistic child. Naturally, that made us want to talk to him, to touch base, acknowledge that other part of our life. And so we did. He responded warmly and appropriately. Very present in the conversation. And that felt good, that reminder that even in this shallow, self-involved world, some people are solid and real.

(If this paragraph makes you want to run to Google and figure out who and what show I’m talking about, email me instead. I’ll tell you.)

As we threaded through the crowd a bit later, Dan nudged me. “There’s someone over there you know.” I looked. It took me a moment. But yes. And oh. And we went over. It took her a moment too, until she got that click. It’s been a while. More than a decade ago, I was an assistant editor on a show I’d loved since it premiered. It was a good experience, partly due to this woman, a director/producer on the show, who treated me with respect. She has a knack for cutting through the chitchat and really talking. I loved seeing her again in that place, a reminder that I’m not so far removed from this world after all. We talked about working so hard together the day after Christmas that year, fixing a just-fired editor’s mistakes. I was her hands, hers and the director’s, and I learned so much that week, seeing the editor’s disastrous mistakes and then seeing how these two brilliant former editors fixed those mistakes. She said what I’d done was a mitzvah, but I remember feeling lucky.

When she asked what I’ve been up to, I said something I almost never say, because it makes me feel like I’m admitting to being a second class citizen or, worse, living some retro-fifties antifeminist life. But this time I went ahead and said it: “I’ve been staying home with my son.” She beamed. She told me that was great and that was important and that was a gift to my child. It was clear she meant it and also that she understood it’s not a forever thing, this mom at home business. And we talked a bit about children and the teen years (her children at the moment) and I ended up telling her about Damian’s diagnosis and his progress, which I hadn’t intended to but felt right, and she gave me a hug.

The third encounter was less profound, maybe, but still had an impact on me. Remember when I visited Dan in the cutting room a while back? When I saw the star of a show I once worked on? And decided not to say hello? Well, this time I did. Went over, introduced myself and my subterranean relationship to him on that series. And you know what? He was nice. A little chatty, even. We talked a bit about that show and the producers and then segued into… our children. Being parents. In this case, the decision to have only one and the odd pressure to have more.

Yep. Once again. Children, the common bond. And I didn’t need to Be Someone. Just to be.

That, to me, was the lesson of the evening. I used to want to impress. Hell, I’d still prefer that. I’m human, after all. (And a Capricorn.) And maybe someday I will impress with my latest book sale or what have you. But what I’m learning is that sometimes nobody cares about that stuff, nobody but you. And if you stop caring about your lack of resume, you can just be who you are and that really truly can be okay. Even in Hollywood, land of the status symbol. If you’re comfortable in who you are, it shows and others will be too.

Though apparently it helps if you’re a parent.

Posted by Tamar at April 23, 2004 10:06 PM