Sync'd

The universe is speaking to us. Stories and lessons about how I am learning to listen.

I used to say somebody needs to do something about that … then I realize that I was somebody.

Lily Tomlin

LA’d

As a child, evidence of my mother’s young life seemed like a mystery to be unraveled. Early pictures of her, favorite toys emerging from storage, a piece of school art saved by my grandmother … but her high school yearbooks held the most intrigue. On a rainy day I would ask her to pull them out and closely examine the dated clothing, changes in Centralia High School, and memorabilia from the Orphans - our town’s historic basketball team.

One day while looking at her senior yearbook, I noticed each member of the graduating class had a caption under their photo. Hers was: “She makes her own fun and enjoys it.” Asking about it, I could tell she was stung by my question. She shared regretfully it was written without her input, even though she was on the yearbook committee. Trying to explain why it was so hurtful, she said, “It was a backhanded compliment … and had more to do with teasing than capturing my spirit.”

Oddly, there are no truer words about my mother, and I’ve inherited this legacy of “making my own fun.” Years later, as an adult, I asked for a framed copy of the photo with the caption. It was eventually given as a Christmas gift and is in my living room. It is still somewhat of a mystery why she felt so diminished by what is also a tremendous gift. Although, there often seems to be a dark side inextricably attached to our characteristics of greatness.

All my life, I’ve witnessed the natural sense of playfulness my mother brings into most moments. She has a comedic eye that can amplify even the subtlest absurdities and vividly bring them to life. She’s a spot-on mimic and delivers gifted impressions of any zany character crossing her path. These gestures are harmless enough and it’s never seen as mean spirited. She lifts most conversations, dinners, car rides or even church services to a heightened experience with family, friends and especially strangers. People are instantly drawn into the fun “she makes” and they join her in the enjoyment. It was a little like being raised by Lucy Ricardo on I Love Lucy. And I was probably more like Ethel, Lucy’s best friend and confidant, than her son.

Within a year or two after my mother’s sister passed from multiple sclerosis, she took a trip to Beverly Hills, California to visit one of her childhood friends. Over her two-week visit my mother met many of their friends and was quickly welcomed as part of their havurah - a Jewish fellowship. My mother was the only Christian/Lutheran and single member of this close group of six or seven couples including a Rabbi who welcomed and supported her in many ways. During the visit, one of the women she met was starting a law practice and offered my mother a secretarial position in Beverly Hills making significantly more than at the accounting firm in Centralia. Within a month, Betty … Moved to Beverly … Hills … that is … quoting the opening song to the 1960’s sitcom The Beverly Hillbillies.

It was a brave and transforming move. She rented a quaint two-story townhome near the corner of Rexford and Gregory Drive in Beverly Hills that shared a small courtyard with two other units. Living just five blocks from her law offices on Beverly Drive, she frequently walked to work. Her place became an anchor for my sister and our family to visit and explore life in Los Angeles. The hot Santa Ana winds … the June gloom giving way to best beach months in August and September … and fun celebrity encounters that included Warren Beaty, Angie Dickinson, Robert De Niro, Lily Tomlin and Bebe Neuwirth from Fraiser … all became part of our expanded awareness of life in a very different and exotic place.

Quickly Betty tapped into a network of friends able to secure tickets to The Price Is Right, The Tonight Show, many sitcoms filmed live, and the iconic Hollywood Bowl. Dinners at Chin Chin, dessert at The Source on Sunset and the beautiful drive down San Vincente to the beach and north to Malibu are all favorite memories.

Joining the havurah she frequently had dinner at expansive homes in flats of Beverly Hills, restaurants near Rodeo Drive and spent many weekends in Laguna or at beach houses in La Jolla. Her first year in LA, she launched an annual Christmas party at her home that became an iconic holiday event for the havurah. At the party the Rabbi deemed the group the Lu-Jews. In a good way my mother became an enigma to her wealthy friends who had lived in Southern California most of their lives. It’s an example of another great legacy given to us. Betty has always made the most of all she had and never felt diminished or jealous by those who had more. As a result like her, my sister and I have always felt innately welcomed and secure in almost any setting.

On to the celebrity sightings and three emerged through the dynamic energy of synchronicity. On February 12, 1988, St. Louis was quickly being buried in an unexpected snowstorm and my TWA flight to Los Angeles was one of the last planes cleared to depart before airport traffic was shuttered. A friend was traveling with me and the positive vibes that got our plane into the air continued to follow us for an amazing ten days in southern California. My grandmother Mollie was spending several months with my mother and her sister Judy was also visiting with her husband. So as usual, people would be sleeping in every room of my mother’s house.

Tickets were secured to Carson show on Thursday, February 18^th and the guests that evening were Dudley Moore and Minnie Black. Dudley is still probably a household name, but Minnie Black was a 99-year-old woman who collected dried gourds that could be used as musical instruments or looked like Presidents. After the show, departing the studio, Mollie and Judy headed across the street to use the bathroom at the gas station while we went to retrieve the car in a remote parking lot. As we pulled into the gas station, Dudley Moore was gassing up his Rolls Royce and Mollie was chatting him up.

Oddly, in 1993, I was in an improvisational company Five People from the Waist Up, and we had a monthly show at the Elbow Room in Chicago. I was a better writer than performer, but developed a fun character named Marge who always had a monologue spot in the show. One evening a young woman approached me after the performance and said that Marge was a lot like grandmother who collected gourds and was on The Johnny Carson show. Laughing, I said, “I was in the audience of the show the night your grandmother spoke to Johnny!” She looked at me doubtfully and I said, “Dudley Moore was the other guest.” The woman freaked out and howled with laughter. How crazy is that?!!

My friend spent a few days with a relative in the area and when she returned to my mother’s place we decided to spend an afternoon sightseeing in Beverly Hills. We planned to wander around Rodeo Drive just several blocks from my mother’s townhouse. We started with lunch at the first California Pizza Kitchen on Beverly Drive near Rodeo. We were having a late lunch seated outside along the pedestrian sidewalk and most of the tables were empty. About a block ahead, I spotted a man in a very contemporary suit, killer sunglasses and swagger that could only belong to a celebrity. In a hushed tone I said to my friend, “someone famous is about to walk by, look, but be discreet.” As the man got closer, it was Warren Beaty, and both my friend and I were careful to avoid eye contact. Oddly he walked by and gawked, totally checking us out, making direct eye contact that we completely avoided. It was weird.

After lunch we spent a few hours wandering around the shops along Beverly and Rodeo Drive. We obsessed over the encounter. Was it him!? Why did he gawk at us? Why didn’t we say something? Were we being too obvious to not notice him? Did he want to be noticed? Was he coming on to my sexy female friend? On … and on … and on… without any conclusive insight or resolution. There’s more!!!

After shopping for about three hours, we headed back to my mother’s townhouse. As we approached the corner of Gregory and Beverly, the door of a very fancy salon opened, and Warren Beaty walked out. He walked to the same corner for what seemed like an eternity, we stood there with him waiting for the walk sign. Again, we avoided eye contact … and again … he kept staring at us! My friend and I are convinced that if one of us would have said hello … one of us might have gotten to audition for a part in Shampoo II.

Celebrity synchronicity sighting number two … One of my mother’s favorite casual weeknight spots for dinner was the The Soup Plantation. It was a cafeteria setting with an incredible salad bar and great soups. There was one near The Beverly Center and it was a frequent haunt for a somewhat healthy lunch or dinner. Another friend was along for my visit, and we were close to the end of the trip without any celebrity sightings. As we settled in my friend spotted Bebe Neuwirth from Fraiser at the table right next to us. She was alone and we didn’t approach her, but she caught us looking at her several times and shot an awkward glance or two our way.

My mother cooked dinner the following night and our plan was to venture up to The Source a vegetarian restaurant up on Sunset Drive for dessert. It was a beautiful clear evening to show off the city. When we arrived, a hostess seated us and as I looked toward the adjacent table quite close, there was Bebe Neuwirth from Fraiser. Again, eating alone. She caught my eye, clearly recognized us, and if she was famous enough to have security, they would have been called. We were careful not to gawk again.

Celebrity synchronicity sighting number three … On another visit, my mother and I attended a Sunday afternoon matinee at a theater off 3^rd Street Promenade mall in Santa Monica. The pedestrian shopping area was recently renovated, and it was a hot spot. Teeming with people, the outdoor restaurants were jammed serving a late lunch or early dinner. As we walked by one of the outdoor cafes, Lily Tomlin’s voice rose above all the busy hubbub and chatter like she was speaking directly to me. She wasn’t, but I turned to my mother and said, “stop … I just heard Lily Tomlin’s voice!” We both looked to my left and there was Lily Tomlin at an outdoor table, and she had heard my proclamation. She smiled and waved at us. We smiled back, waved at her, and walked on.

Los Angeles and southern California has an energy and magic that is unique in the world. I’m grateful for my mother’s decade in Beverly … Hills … that is …. Just before my sister’s first son was born, my mother moved back to Centralia, Illinois. And believe it or not, two of her Los Angeles friends relocated to my hometown within a few years.