Wearing plastic heels and a glittery gold cape and crown, I accepted my award. My prize was a bare-chested Ken with yellow surf shorts because, of all my dolls, he resembled Oscar the most. I performed this scenario for hours on our tall, open porch in the warmer months or inside by the bay window that looked out over our snowy front yard.
The answer to the frequently asked question, “What are you going to be when you grow up?” was always that I would be an actress.
Since preschool, I have dreamed of the red carpet and earning that official Oscar. I imagine gracefully exiting one of the rows of limousines, joining other celebrities in designer gowns with expensive jewelry and purses, and walking amidst the flashing camera bulbs.
I wanted to go to Hollywood and be someone else for the duration of a production. I loved everything about celebrity, at least what I thought it was: recognition, money, the ability to travel, and having the world at your feet.
I would sit inches from the screen to ensure I didn’t miss a detail or clue about how the me of the future should behave. The only other show that garnered so much attention was the Partridge Family.
I loved everything from the swag walks down the long red corridor to the elegant ascension up the stairs for the acceptance speech.
To prepare, I painted my nails, shaved my legs, rolled my hair with one large empty grapefruit can, and wore my best pajamas. I was humiliated when bedtime came before the “main” awards.
As a child, I was seldom familiar with the movies nominated other than what was said in a television interview. I only cared about the glamour. My initial goal as a paid actress was to make enough money to buy a house.
By the time I entered high school, my dream was starting to fade. I was in several school plays, but I was surprised I never earned a singing role. I often played grandmother types.
Then I got my driver’s license and a taste of independence.
I came to realize that being an actress took much more time than I had the patience for.
Life in Hollywood went on without me. I continued to watch and admire from afar.
As time went on, I had access to the theater, watched at least four nominated movies, and researched any unfamiliar actors.
I watched the entire Oscars, even if it ran until two a.m., regardless of whether I had to work the next morning. I often took a personal day afterward, knowing that the excitement, celebratory champagne, and chocolate fondue would likely do me in.
In my fifties, we moved near a community theatre, where I signed up for a ten-minute monologue event. Mine involved a lady who spontaneously ran out of her house, leaving the vacuum running as she caught a cab for Key West. Her big dreams resulted in a job as a bartender, but at least she had the ocean breezes and many regular customers.
I found it much harder to memorize dialogue when you have no one else to play off of, no break, just you and your audience telling a story without props. Still, I felt like I had found my calling again.
Unfortunately, my dad became ill right before tickets became available, and I had to bow out. At least I got to bow.
After that, theatre life went on without me.
Every year, I still picture myself walking the red carpet. Perhaps as a screenwriter whose book was brilliantly adapted for the screen? I’d take my granddaughter along, who is as giddy as I am by all the star-studded moments, and we both fulfill our childhood dreams.
I’m proud of all the creativity and general greatness gathered in the Dolby Theatre each year. No matter whether actors are new to the business or accepting lifetime achievement awards, they are members of a strong community with similar ideals and expressions.
Even if I can’t attend their parties or mingle in their crowd, for one night, I’m a part of their community; we think and feel similarly. These are my people.
I am an adoring fan.
Watching the Oscars, Golden Globes, and People’s Choice Awards once a year is likely the closest I will ever get to rubbing shoulders with “famous celebrities,” but that is ok.
Aside from reading an engrossing book or watching a relatable movie, there are few things in life where I can imagine myself being in the story and a part of the action, even after fifty years.
The Oscars still bring out the kid in me, and from where I sit, in my best pajamas, that isn’t such a bad thing.
Isn’t that what the movies are all about?
“I think cinema, movies, and magic have always been closely associated. The very earliest people who made film were magicians.” …Francis Ford Coppola
Congratulations in 2024 to:
- Oppenheimer : Best Movie
- Robert Downey Jr.: Best Supporting Actor for Oppenheimer
- Emma Stone: Best Actress for Poor Things
- Cillian Murphy: Best Actor for Oppenheimer
- Da’vine Joy Randolph: Best Supporting Actress for The Holdovers
Motion pictures have only been around for a little over 100 years. Imagine the extraordinary creations yet to come.
Thanks for reading!
Keep smiling!
xx
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