The Leslie Show

Rest in Peace, Roy Scheider

The actor Roy Scheider died yesterday at the age of 75.  He had cancer.  The older I get the less old 75 seems. 

I always found him to be a fascinating actor, one who presented tremendous confidence and self-assuredness on screen (even if his character was freaking out). He was fantastic, of course, in Jaws.  Really the glue that held scenery-chewers Robert Shaw and Richard Dreyfuss in place.  But my favorite Roy Scheider movie is All That Jazz, for a couple of reasons:

1. Bob Fosse's choreography is brilliant. 
2. It takes a hell of a lot of courage to make a (semi-autobiographical) movie about your own mortality, and to do it with a tremendous amount of black humor and irony. 
3. We had the soundtrack (on an 8-track cassette!) and I know virtually every note of it.
4. It's kind of a freaky movie, and it's so 1970's.  I don't usually go for freaky movies, but I totally get this one. 
5. Roy Scheider completely embodies his character.  I absolutely believed he was Joe Gideon.
6. "It's showtime, folks" is a line I still use whenever I'm about to go do an event that involves interacting with the public. 

So here's a clip of the movie's finale.  The set up is this:  Joe Gideon is a Broadway choreographer who pours everything he has into his work, to the detriment of his family, friends, and personal life.  As the current show he's working on takes a greater and greater toll on his health, his loved ones try to convince him (through song and dance) that he needs to come back to them and find better work/life balance.  Gideon sees everything in terms of work, even choreographing his own death scene.  Jessica Lange plays the Angel of Death, who flirts with him throughout the film.

And so, Roy Scheider, even though Fosse made this scene in reference to himself, you were the one singing and sliding and sweating through it, so it could be yours too.  If you want it.  Perhaps the reason I like this scene so much is that I want it.  I'm not asking for much, right?  Just a razzle-dazzle song and dance number to see me out.   

Godspeed, Ann Richards

I'm not going to say "Rest In Peace" to The Hon. Ann Richards, who died yesterday at the age of 73 from esophageal cancer.  Resting in peace doesn't seem to fit her.  She was such a firebrand, such a quick wit, such a broad (a word I usually despise because it can be used pejoratively but for her I mean it as a strong, fearless woman with a smart mouth and I mean it as a high compliment) that I can't imagine something as pedestrian as death causing her to rest. 

Chris and I went to hear her speak in the late days of the 2004 presidential race, and she was just wonderful.  At times bawdy, at other times biting, and always ladylike she represented to me the kind of woman I would love to be.  I don't think I can fully express the powerful impact of being female and seeing that kind of woman...one that wasn't afraid to throw a rhetorical haymaker while maintaining a high-level of femininity ... in such a position of power.  She was, and will remain, a huge inspiration.

So, don't rest in peace, Ann.  Get up there in heaven and kick some ass.  I'm sure the place could use a little livening up.

Look at that turtle go, bro!

World's Oldest Tortoise Dies after 250 years.

I had no idea there were animals that old on this planet.  Very cool.  Gotta love the picture in the msnbc article.  That tortoise is like "Oy!  I'm so tired my tired is tired."

Betty Friedan 1921-2006

When I was 11 years old, I marched through the halls of Congress, holding hands with Betty Friedan, to ask for an extension of the Equal Rights Amendment. 

I went to this marvelous school, Upland Hills Farm School.  It was (and remains) an alternative education school with a creative and nurturing curriculum that welcomes the uniqueness and creativity inherent in all children.  I had some amazing experiences in my three years there, not the least of which was our Women's Class trip to Washington.

Every Wednesday morning, the older kids would go offsite to "Men's" and "Women's" Class.  A simple answer would be to explain them as "sex-ed" classes, but that doesn't nearly do it justice.  It was much more than rudimentary sex-ed.  This was the 1970's. We talked about women's empowerment and our bodies and famous women and what we wanted to be when we grew up.  It was a really cool class where we felt amazingly lucky and honored to be female. 

I have no idea what the boys did.  Nor did I particularly care.  But I'm pretty sure their class wasn't nearly as cool as ours.  Example:  We took a field trip in the Fall of 1978 to attend a rally in Washington, D.C. to ask for an extension to ratify the ERA.  We were all young girls between ages 9-13, our moms, and some teachers from the school.  I don't remember anyone ever saying "No, you can't go." or "Why would you take young girls to this?  They can't vote."  Just that we were going. 

We listened to the speeches, then headed to our Senator's office (Sen. Bob Griffith, from Michigan) to let him know we wanted him to support the extension.  As we walked through the halls of congress (Yes, you could just walk in and head right to your senator's office in those days.  Tell him what was on your mind.) we held hands in solidarity.  On one side was my mother, and on the other was a short-ish, white haired woman whom I assumed was one of the mothers from our group. 

"Oh my god," said my mother.  "I can't believe I'm walking down the halls of Congress with Betty Friedan."

I was so embarrassed.  (Remember, I was 11.  Everything your mother says when you're 11 is embarrassing.)  But I had no idea, then, who Betty Friedan was or what she stood for.  To be honest, at the time I had no idea how extraordinary my experience was.  I thought everybody got on buses at some time or another and went to Washington D.C. to let their voices be heard.  That pivotal even made me understand that I had a  duty to let my opinion be known, and the fact that I was female didn't make my opinion any less valuable. 

I thank Betty Friedan for opening that door for American women.  May her soul be free.

Richard Pryor 1940-2005

Just a shout out to the spirit of Richard Pryor, which passed from his body today.  Richard, you were a genius.  You took your sorrow and pain and transformed it into art.   Art that made people laugh.  You were the best of the best.  God bless you.

Folks, if you don't know Richard Pryor, rent Richard Pryor:  Live in Concert, touted by professional comedians and laypeople alike as the best live comedy film ever made.  You will see a man who has been called "the Yoda of Comedy" at the top of his game.

Stanley Carlton Irish (1916-2005)

My Grandpa Stan died today.   He was a simple farm boy who worked hard and tried to play by the rules.   He didn't let things get too complicated, and that is a very admirable trait.   He loved his wife.   He loved home-cooked meals.

"Grandpa," I asked him once.   "Why do you hate going out to dinner?"
"Because it never tastes as good to me as your grandma's cooking and I always end up disappointed that it cost me so much more and wasn't as good," he said.   And he meant it.

He used to take me fishing at Independence Oaks.   We used bamboo poles and caught blue gill.   He'd clean them and Grandma would cook them.   She hated cooking fish but she did it for Stan because he loved it.

He had a mean dad.   I guess his dad had a pretty hard and sad upbringing, so maybe he was entitled to be a mean old man.   But his mother was kind, and so was he.   He once told me that it was too hard to have pet rabbits when he was a kid because he grew attached to them and then was sad when it was time to eat them.   Once, he teased me about needing a hair cut.   I got my feelings   hurt and told him so.   "I don't have enough money to go get my hair cut!"   Later that week, an envelope arrived at my dorm in handwriting I didn't recognize.   It was a check from Stan, in a card that he had signed himself.   I called Grandma:

"What on EARTH?" I asked her.   I had never in my life received anything written from my Grandpa.   That was Grandma's department.

"He felt AWFUL that he hurt your feelings," she said. 

The day after Chris and I started dating I left to spend Spring Break with them in Florida.   A letter from Chris arrived later that week.

"Les, you've got some mail," said Grandpa.   "It's from Smoochie Muggins."

I've called Chris "Smoochie Muggins" on and off ever since. 

He lived a long life. Lived through two World Wars and the Great Depression.   He was married for 66 years to the girl he used to swim across the lake with.   He loved his mother and he loved his brother, and I sure hope they're with him now. 

These are just some remembrances typed through tears as I think about him.   I will miss him and I hope he has safe travels to wherever he is going.

Rest In Peace, Christopher Reeve.

CNN.com - 'Superman' star Christopher Reeve dead at 52 - Oct 11, 2004

This makes me sad.  He was working so hard to walk again, and working so hard to expand stem-cell research. 

When I was training for the Seattle Half-Marathon, I listened to him read his book:  Nothing is Impossible:  Reflections on a New Life.  It inspired me to push myself as I trained.  I mean, God, all I had to do was run a measly 13.1 miles.  He had to do a marathon every day.