Golden sunshine, all along the way
Every morning on the drive to school, David Lynch tells us the weather. He started doing the weather forecast for KCRW last May, early-pandemic. Truly the terrestrial radio shakeup we Southern Californians needed, aurally. He reads the weather from his basement office, then every day, thoughtfully muses "Today, I was thinking about [insert song here] by the great [insert artist here]." Then, because the weather in Southern California is comfortably homogeneous, he ends each weather report with "And it looks like...blue skies and golden sunshine, all along the way. Everyone, have a great day!" It's so soothing. His strangely high-pitched, nasal yet gravelly voice. The way he pronounces Tuesday, like my grandfather used to: Tues-dee.
Every morning at 9:23 on the dot, we became accustomed to hearing this report. I explained to Rowan and Zoe that David Lynch is a surrealist filmmaker, but for some reason his name won't stick, and now every time we get into the car Rowan asks:
"Is George Washington going to read us the news?"
"Do you mean is David Lynch going to read us the weather?"
"Yeah!"
We're on Day 19 of 30 consecutive summer break days, which means we haven't heard the Lynch Report in 19 days, because we can't seem to get out of the house before 10. It's madness, it's chaos, it's exhausting, and it feels like Pandemic Part I all over again. Searching for outdoor places to keep them occupied, ways to educate them and entertain them and just keep them out of the house, else we all be subjected to hours of their fighting over toys/sticks/markers/pieces of string/random pieces of cardboard. I am squeezing auditions and callbacks into their naps or TV time. At night, after I put them to bed, I go to the office and record and edit all my voiceover auditions. I count the hours 'til the next White Lotus episode. Last week, I had to leave them at a playground with a mom friend so I could run home for a callback and then race back to the playground to bring them home for baths. Otherwise, I would have had to pay $44 to have a callback. That I...did not book.
This is my callback setup. Just like a studio! This one involved memorizing 5 pages of tech jargon-heavy dialogue. I did not book it. The director told me he loved what I was doing, and to do it again exactly like that, but with different "beeps." Even though beeps were not going to be part of the performance in the actual commercial...they would be sound effects. But sure, I could "change the beeps." I did. He said "Okayyy, thanks so much," and then X'd out of the Zoom. I'll never know why I did not book that. I'll never attain a true understanding of anything to do with this industry, it appears.
Last week, we went to the Huntington Gardens. The Children's Garden is finally open, after a year of its little pools and fountains and volcano steam houses being shuttered for Covid. We brought a few Finding Nemo toys to play with in the fountains, and when we went to go play elsewhere in the gardens, when we returned the octopus and Nemo's dad was gone. Rowan was momentarily bereft, but I explained to him that's sometimes the price we pay for sharing - sometimes a toy we love gets ruined or taken by another kid, but that's okay because it was so much fun playing Nemo with all those kids for so long before we abandoned them for the ivy tunnel, and that the kids probably just thought they were left behind for good. After all, we found one of Rowan's most beloved figurines at the Huntington Gardens (a miniature Gaston, long since lost and assuredly passed on to its next child).
As I folded their soaking wet clothes into our backpack and dressed them in dry outfits, handed them a half a Larabar, re-hydrated them from their water bottles, and buckled their sandals, I was hot, tired, and ready for them to be in their rooms so I could lie prostrate on my bed, staring at my phone for a few minutes.
"You should tell your mommy what a cool mom she is," I heard a guy with a baby strapped to his chest and a toddler son jumping in the fountains tell Rowan.
I smiled to myself and zipped our backpack and walked by him. "I love your attitude," he said as I passed. "You're a great mom."
My throat closed up and I said a weirdly curt "Oh, thank you," as I passed. We got halfway to the bathroom before I told the kids I forgot something and had to go back. I found the guy and unleashed a "Hey, I did not honor what you said in a way that it deserved. That was an extremely generous and kind thing of you to say to me, and I just wanted to tell you, it meant something. Thank you for saying it!"
You always wonder how the hell you're doing as a parent and here was this kind-faced, smiling stranger, just, offering feedback.
"Oh, it's so true! You give me hope, for being a good dad to these two." He gestured towards the sleeping baby on his chest.
Of course, this guy didn't see me when I was yelling at my kids for the 10th time that morning to finally do their last pee/finish their toast/put the toys away/put their fucking shoes on so we could get in the car and maybe hear George Washington read the news for once, but that's the luck of timing / how I behave in public spaces, I guess.
And if we did get to the garden before (18)10, maybe we would've heard a "Good morning, it is the 11th of February, 1778. It is sub-freezing at -11 degrees Fahrenheit. Today, I was thinking about a contrapuntal tune I'm fond of hearing on the bassoon during battle - Chester, by William Billings, patriot and dear friend of Paul Revere. It looks like dark skies, snow, sleet, and grey all along the way. Everyone, have a Smallpox-free day!"
Doesn't have quite the same ring. Not quite.
NEW THINGS ALERT:
I'll be switching to Substack, so if you see future editions of this newsletter come from there, don't be alarmed.
I'll also be including 3 things and a book I have loved this week at the end of each newsletter.
1. One "cool and super unique" thing about me is I cannot get enough of videos of kids learning they are going to Disneyland or Disneyworld. I get a lump in my throat and cry every time! This guy...wow. I can't take it!! P.S. This started BEFORE I became a "Disneyhead" (see: last newsletter), so I guess "it" was in me all along.......
2. Staring at all these Italian regional guides, stomach churning, wondering when I'll ever get to walk through Italy again. Our Islands Without Cars episode was postponed til 2022 due to the Delta variant, and I haven't been on a plane since 2019. I miss the world.
3. Three easy steps to getting your television show on the air! So easy!
BOOKS
I recently finished and enjoyed: Breast and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami. An incisive meditation on what it is to be a woman in contemporary Japan: to be a sister, a daughter, and the desire to be a mother without a partner in a conservative culture that shuns the use of artificial insemination. Great read, which I finished in a hotel, by MYSELF. More on that next time.
Thanks for reading, friends. If you like it, share it with a different friend (not me, I wrote it).