My mother was star-struck. She grew up on a farm in Nebraska and fell in love with celebrities. When she was older, she moved to Hollywood and was still in awe of them. But then she met and married my father, and his mother was a founding member of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association. Almost every weekend, my mother, who became a writer, and my grandmother, who was a British correspondent, would go together to the Beverly Hills Hotel to interview a star. They along with the other foreign correspondents would send off their articles along with photos to be included in journals around the world.
Though she remained at least a little star struck for the rest of her life, my mother soon realized that actors and actresses are just people too. And so did I. In my teens, I was commissioned to be the driver for my mom, my aunt and my grandmother, all of whom were active members of "The Club." I also accompanied them to the Golden Globes, 'the club's' annual award's show.
Over the years, while just showing up for work, I met Meryl Streep, Clint Eastwood, Jessica Lange, Colin Farrell and a host of others. They'd speak of their latest films, their lives, their scandals and their hopes and dreams. The photographer would snap a few shots, while I sat in the back sipping tea, and off the articles would go.
To me, it was just a job, like any other job, I was simply the family chauffeur. In truth, it was just another working day for all of us. Though the job was mildly interesting, I must confess that often I was bored, because early on I realized that under the glitz, the stars were all just ordinary people. More like you and me, than you would think.
A similar thing happened to a friend of mine, an actress who landed a part as the second female lead in Phantom of the Opera. During the years that she was performing in it, there were eight performances a week on top of rehearsals. And when she wasn't "on," she'd be behind the scenes, yawning with a crossword somewhere back stage.
Too often in life, we get the idea that someone else is special or better than us. But really they are just people too. The even harder obstacle arises when we get the idea that we are better than others. This almost always rises up as a protective mechanism covering some deep hidden inferiority issue. And that's where the work lies there. But in the meanwhile, if we can just remember that we all have a role to play. We all have challenges and dreams, it can help us to see that though we are all different, we are also just the same. People are people, and no one, no matter how special they may seem, is either superior or inferior to little old you and me.
© Josephine Laing 2016
This past weekend I was in Los Angeles at my Aunt's Young Artists Award Ceremony. Maureen Dragone passed away a year and some months ago, but her legacy lives on through the honoring of young actors and actresses for their achievements in theater and film. Her mother, my grandmother, Nora Laing, had founded the Hollywood Foreign Press Association and the Golden Globes Award. She did this some seventy years prior with a handful of friends, while my aunt was in her teens. In her young years, my aunt was inspired by Jackie Coogan and others young professionals whose efforts as child stars went either largely uncompensated or largely unrecognized. So she followed in her mother's footsteps and crated an organization that would let young performers meet on a more equal playing field, separate from the adults, one that would fully acknowledge their noteworthy contributions to entertainment. Now, here I find myself, in a ballroom full of very talented young people, tomorrow's big stars, wondering what amazing things they will accomplish in the lives that lay ahead for them.
Most of these young people know each other very well. They follow each others careers and work very closely. And they are all so supportive and encouraging, cheering each other on. As the names of the nominees were called out, whoops and hollers of joy and commendation would arise from different areas of the room, simmering down to an overall applause from everyone. Then, as the winners were announced, after the celebratory din died down, the text messages would begin to fly. Congratulating, consoling, sending thoughts and words of support and love, not only to each other, but also to family members at home and friends around the globe.
It reminded me of telepathy and what Einstein called, "Spooky action at a distance." This is where particles from the same atom are separated by a vast distance. Then something is done to one of those particles and it results in a reaction or response. But the particle that had the experience is not the only one that reacts. The other particle, the one that is connected but far away also has the same reaction.
This is where physicists and metaphysicians meet, the realm of telepathy. An event occurs to a loved one on a distant continent, and we wake up, knowing that something has happened. And here are all these children in this ballroom texting their messages instantaneously around the globe. It's very like telepathy and right in keeping with the patterns we find in quantum physics.
As I sat there remembering my aunt and my grandmother before me, basking in their legacy, it occurred to me that with cell phones and texting, we have all moved one more substantial step farther along the road to recognizing our oneness and our interconnectedness. The only step remaining is realizing that we can do this without a device. We already have within us the Quantum Entanglement of our deeper knowings, where two particles or people are so deeply linked that they share the same existence. This is spooky action at a distance, that ability to know instantaneously, just like texting, but it's telepathy.
With that, I'll just let you all know that I'm thinking of you.
© Josephine Laing, 2015
