Jew Eat Yet?

Charlie Protests a TV Show

 

Leah took this shot of Charlie lying on me this morning. About two seconds after she snapped the photo, he puked all over my face. I didn’t mind. After everything Charlie has been through, a little projectile vomiting from time to time is just fine by me. And it provided a good laugh for Leah!

Charlie and I were lying like this the other night as we watched an episode of “Private Practice.” Do you watch this show? It’s a spin-off of “Grey’s Anatomy.” I like the main actress, Kate Walsh, who plays neonatal surgeon Addison Montgomery at a fictional health clinic in Los Angeles called Ocean Wellness. Like most medical dramas, many of its plotlines are big on High Drama and not always slaves to plausibility. And I pray that Charlie’s doctors were less committed to sexual escapades with their co-workers than the good doctors of both Ocean Wellness and “Grey’s” Seattle Grace Hospital. Jesus, those docs spend more time having sex in the break room than they do on surgical consults. And yet we’re always supposed to believe they are the best of the best—excelling in their careers even though they all suck at personal relationships. So be it, it’s just a TV show.

When we saw that one of the main plotlines of this week’s episode was a baby born very prematurely, Kendall wisely bowed out. But I couldn’t resist, I wanted to see how the show would depict the challenges faced by micro-preemies and their families.

Oy.

The baby in the episode was born at 25 weeks, just on the cusp of viability according to Addison. That’s true, it’s extremely early, but our twins were born at 24 weeks and there were babies I met at Cedars who survived who were born at 23, considered the very limit of possible survival (there have recently been several 22-week-old babies who have made it although most do not).

As I’ve discussed, Charlie’s twin Oliver was born with massive problems that started in utero (and probably caused the 16-week-early delivery). His neurological condition was catastrophic from birth and he only survived for 12 hours. In my shock at the way “Private Practice” handled the issue of premature delivery, I certainly acknowledge that all babies born that early face serious life-threatening issues. But our son Charlie had every single problem that the TV baby had, and then some. So imagine my horror when Dr. Montgomery says that she doesn't think she can bring herself to perform the necessary surgeries because there’s really no hope for this baby. She tells the parents right then and there that they should call it a day and stop all treatment.

First of all, and this is just an irritating technicality, a baby born that early would have been immediately transferred from Addison’s Santa Monica clinic to the NICU at UCLA, Cedars-Sinai, or Children’s Hospital. Wouldn’t the NICU’s teams of neonatologists have been making these decisions? And yes, all parents of micro-preemies at some point get the speech about quality of life and the actions they might need to take. There are social workers and medical ethicists who help with this agonizing decision, it should not come from a surgeon who’s reluctant to continue providing treatment, especially when her colleagues, the woman’s own doctors, don’t agree with her assessment.

The next day I got a text from a former NICU mother I know that said “If you TiVo ‘Private Practice,’ don’t watch this week’s episode!” Too late! As Addison was telling the couple to stop treatment, I started screaming at our set, “Don’t do it!!” The husband on the show didn't want to give up, but the mother finally agreed to because the doctor tells her it’s the only way she could hold her tiny baby—if they disconnect him  from all the machines. “No, just wait,” I screamed, clutching our now 16 lb. Charlie tighter in my arms, “you WILL be able to hold him, you just might need to wait a long time!”

Another woman I know whose son has almost identical issues as Charlie (and the TV baby) was watching the show after coming home from the Canadian NICU where her son still resides. She wrote on her blog that night: “…the baby is diagnosed with IVH (brain hemorrhage) and NEC (necrotizing enterocolitis). The parents are presented two options: operate and your child will have to be on a ventilator and fed through a tube, or remove life support. Umm…I can't even BEGIN to start talking about how this is presented to the parents…very strongly in favor of removing life support. I want to scream at the television what we know. Well, I'm actually talking to the TV as it is, but still. Ugh.” That poor woman. At least we’ve emerged on the other side with Charlie home and healthy and strong and growing. Such shows must be true terror-fests for people who are in the middle of the situations being depicted. It makes me wonder how other medical conditions are dramatized for TV shows. When I know nothing about them, I just take it for granted that the medical consultants on the shows would at least make sure they get all the facts right.

When Addison tells the parents the baby has necrotizing enterocolitis, all of the doctors gasp in shock. Really? Yes, it’s very serious and requires immediate surgery, but MOST premature babies who get this disease fully recover! Look, I get that television shows need high drama to get ratings, no one is interested in seeing a bunch of medical scenarios that are easily cured or have happy endings. Last year, one doctor on “Private Practice” found herself pregnant. True, she didn’t know which doctor was the father (hello?), but she was very excited about the pregnancy. That is, until the season finale when one of her unhinged patients who had recently lost a baby appeared at the doctor’s house, drugged her, and cut the baby out of her body with a scalpel she bought on the Internet. Yuck.

 

I’m not pretending that many parents of extremely premature babies don’t have to face the decision that the couple on the show faced. Hell, we did, and there’s nothing worse. Let’s be clear: many premature babies die. But you know what? Most of them don’t! Thank God I didn’t watch this or any other medical dramas last year when we were in the throes of our real-life drama. I haven’t forgotten that these are fictional tales aiming for one thing only: ratings. But forgive me if I breathe a sigh of relief that world-class neonatal surgeon Addison Montgomery was never Charlie’s doctor!

Kiss Me, Kathryn

 

For someone who didn’t make that many movies and who walked away from her film career over 50 years ago, Kathryn Grayson’s star status has withstood the test of time—at least to MGM movie fanatics like me and Kendall. Grayson died yesterday in Los Angeles, just a week after her 88th birthday. We know a good friend of hers and I always thought that we’d eventually get to meet the actress. Kendall and I did see her honored at a film festival tribute in August 1997. I remember the date because it happened to be the day that Princess Diana was killed in Paris.

It’s hard to forget Kathryn Grayson in our house. Besides her films blaring on our ever-present Turner Classic Movies, her young face looms large in what is now Charlie’s room. Like many stars who had recently signed on with MGM, the studio tried her out in an Andy Hardy movie before letting her do anything else. Kathryn is lovely in “Andy Hardy’s Private Secretary,” made in 1941, and I have not one but two original posters of this film hanging on our walls. Since he got home from the hospital, Charlie has been transfixed by Kathryn’s heart-shaped face on his wall. He’ll be sad to hear that she’s left us.

Kathryn Grayson was sought out by Louis B. Mayer as MGM’s answer to the operatic warblings of Deanna Durbin (whom MGM had dropped before she became a superstar for Universal). Her screen test, at age 16, was the longest and most expensive test shot at the studio, costing hundreds of thousands of dollars. Grayson hated it, but Mayer was sure he had the next Durbin on his hands.

Following her romp with Mickey Rooney and company, Kathryn made a series of very popular musicals. They weren’t always heavy on plot, but I loved them all—from “Anchors Aweigh” and “Thousands Cheer” to “Two Sisters from Boston” and “Till the Clouds Roll By.” I was less a fan of her films with temperamental opera star Mario Lanza. The good-natured Grayson later admitted that she couldn’t stand Lanza whose ego was apparently as big as his ever-widening girth.

Grayson starred as Magnolia in the wonderful 1951 version of “Show Boat” with Howard Keel and Ava Gardner, and her biggest success was probably “Kiss Me, Kate” in 1953, where she showed her sassy side. Again starring opposite Howard Keel (what a great pair), Kathryn played difficult actress Lilli Vanessi in the modern sequences, and feisty Katherine in the musical version of “The Taming of the Shrew” that the actors are putting on. Grayson was at her peak in this film. How odd, then, that a bad experience making her next film (the abysmal “Vagabond King”) made her walk away from movies for good. The film was supposed to team her up again with Mario Lanza but when he failed to show up, the studio brought in opera singer  Oreste Kirkop, who couldn’t speak a word of English. Kirkop’s speaking voice had to be dubbed. He never made another film.

Kathryn Grayson’s amazing soprano was an acquired taste. I also think she was one of the most beautiful women at MGM  although her delicate features seemed to pale next to drop-dead beauties like Ava Gardner. Let’s take a look at young Kathryn being filmed singing a waltz in “Anchors Aweigh.” Be careful you’re not sitting too close to any glass during those crazy high notes!

After leaving films, Grayson’s career continued in theatre, and she often appeared in productions with her co-star and friend, Howard Keel. Her death yesterday was very peaceful. Today her longtime secretary said “She just went to bed and didn’t wake up.” Not a bad way to go. I hope Kathryn and Howard Keel are up there somewhere singing up a storm.

  

The Worst Christians in America

 

I can only tolerate brief forays into the hideous ravings of some of our country’s religious hatemongers (hearing Fred Phelps or his followers for more than a few seconds makes my head pound), but with another hat tip to muckraker Sue Katz, I read this morning about the Presidents Day activity of two fairly well known preachers: Steven Anderson, head of the Faithful World Baptist Church in Tempe, Arizona, and Wiley Drake, pastor of the First Southern Baptist Church of Buena Park, California.

What did these two men of God ask their followers to pray for last Sunday in their Presidents Day sermons? Help for the people of Haiti? Safety for our soldiers in the world's war zones? To live a life of good deeds? U.S. victories in the Winter Olympics? Nope. They asked their congregants to pray for President Obama’s death. Now there’s a Christian message. “I hope that God strikes Obama with brain cancer so he can die like Ted Kennedy,” Anderson told the members of his church. “And I hope it happens today. When I go to bed tonight I’m going to pray that he dies and goes to hell.” 

Wiley Drake, who was Alan Keyes' Vice-Presidential Candidate in the 2008 election, admonished his minions that it was their duty to pray for the President’s demise. “If you  have an evil leader above you, you pray that Satan will stand by his side and you ask God to make his children fatherless and his wife a widow and that his time in office be short.” To those who are horrified by such sentiments, Wiley says, “I’m praying the word of God. I didn’t write it—don’t get mad of me!” Can’t you just see Jesus weeping for all the ugliness that is spewed in his name?

A few months ago Pastor Anderson dedicated a whole sermon to “Why I Hate Barack Obama.” It was one of his parishioners who was arrested at Notre Dame University when he showed up to protest Obama's appearance with an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle. I listened to several audio clips of his Anderson's crazy sermons and watched both Anderson and Drake on YouTube enough to get a sick stomach.

Not surprisingly, both preachers’ hatred of Obama is only matched by their total condemnation of gay people. Anderson is particularly vocal on the subject. “The same God who instituted the death penalty for murderers is the same God who instituted the death penalty for rapists and for homosexuals, sodomites and queers. That’s what it was instituted for, okay? God commanded it and said they should be taken out and killed.” He goes on to say that first and foremost, ALL gay people are recruiters. “They recruit through rape. They recruit through molestation. They recruit through violation. They are infecting our society. They are spreading their disease. It’s a wicked, filthy, sin disease and it’s spreading on a rampage. Why? Because each sodomite recruits far more than one other sodomite because his whole life is about recruiting other sodomites, his whole life is about violating and hurting people and molesting ‘em."

I’m reluctant to print such heinous bile but I think it’s important that we all are aware that these folks are out there. I look at the little baby girl in Pastor Anderson’s arms and I want to cry for that poor, innocent child growing up in such a life. I am disgusted when I think that people like Anderson and Drake receive tax breaks for their religious affiliations even while openly praying for the death of the President of the United States. And even more disturbing to me than the bat-shit crazy ravings of these individuals are the people I saw in the YouTube clips who clearly support these so-called leaders and believe that they are spreading the word of God. Believe me, I'm not painting the Conservative Right with this tainted brush—I have to believe that the majority of people on the right, even those who despise Obama, would not call for his death. Nor do I think most fundamentalist Christians share these twisted views. While Wiley Drake used to be Vice President of the Southern Baptist Convention, officials of that church now try to distance themselves from him, stressing that the vast majority of Southern Baptists are committed to praying for the well-being of the President.

Also not surprisingly, both Anderson and Drake are “birthers,” the lunatics who believe that Barack Obama was really born in Kenya and therefore not eligible to be President of the United States. Even Ann Coulter, no voice of reason or Obama lover herself, has called the "birther" group a bunch of nuts. 

Anderson and Drake also weighed in on the murder last year of Dr. George Tiller, a Kansas physician who provided abortions. “I am glad George Tiller is dead,” Drake said after the murder last Man. “This man, George Tiller, was far greater in his atrocities than Adolf Hitler.” Anderson said in an interview that he does not believe that the man who shot Tiller is a murderer, and added that he would not call someone who shot a group of gays and lesbians with a machine gun a murderer.

Sigh. Had enough? Me, too, but there’s plenty more out there if you’re interested. You can watch whole sermons, nothing I’m saying here is some lefty re-interpretation. And while I’m thrilled to be living in a country were free speech is valued, in the end these ravings scare the bejeesus out of me. Dr. Tiller was the poster boy for these right-wing fanatics for years before one of them finally killed him in cold blood. And now they’ve set their sights on Barack Obama. I’m not fear-mongering, I’m just hoping that these folks are taken seriously and investigated to see if they’re breaking any current laws with all their violent rhetoric.

And just to be clear, nothing I’ve said here is in any way meant as a dig toward Southern Baptists or any other  Christian denomination. I may be Jewish, but I have nothing but respect and admiration for the real teachings of Jesus Christ.

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming where love rules the day, not hate and ignorance…

Charlie's Valentine

 

Swastika Showdown

I hadn’t heard about the presence of swastikas in the 2010 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition until I read about it this morning on writer Sue Katz’s Facebook page. In the photo, model Genevieve Morton poses against a World War II American fighter plane adorned with Nazi “kill flags,” each one representing a confirmed kill by American pilot Lt. R. H. Parker during the war. Some have found the image of the very Aryan South African model caressing the plane offensive. When the photo appeared without an explanation, the reaction was decidedly more negative than when the swastikas were later identified as representing downed Nazi aircraft. A current poll on the Huffington Post reveals that 55 percent of people are not bothered by the photo but 45 percent say that the photo is in poor taste and offensive. I loathe the shackles of political correctness but I have to say that I vote with the 45 percent. Do I think Genevieve Morton or the editors of Sports Illustrated in any way support Nazi philosophies? Of course not. Do I think the use of a blonde model who could pass for Eva Braun appearing to caress the swastikas on this plane was intended to be deliberately provocative? Of course I do!

Taylor Swift, the current country music sensation (why?), got into hot water a few months ago at a birthday party for singer Katy Perry. The guests were invited to wear white and then decorate their clothing at the event. Swift posed with a model named AJ English whose shirt was adorned with a huge swastika. Responding to the controversy, Swift later said that she didn’t know the guy and didn’t realize what was on his shirt. English responded as all hipster models must—via Twitter—confirming that he didn’t know the young country star and that he “regretted dragging her into all the chaos.” Didn’t see that gigantic swastika on his shirt? Huh? But do I for a second think Taylor Swift supports National Socialism? Not on your life. Do I think she knows what National Socialism is? Um…no.

A few years ago Prince Harry went to a friend’s costume party with his brother, Prince William, dressed as a Nazi officer, complete with swastika armband. After the photo appeared in tabloids around the world, the royal household issued the following statement: “Prince Harry has apologized for any offence or embarrassment he has caused. He realizes it was a poor choice of costume.” Others in the British government called on the prince to make his own public apology (which he never did). Harry’s dad was reportedly appalled by his son’s lack of judgment, especially given the British Royal Family’s attempts to erase their German lineage and their family members who were pro-Hitler. Not a good move, but do I think Harry supports the Nazi agenda as his Great-Uncle did? Don’t be silly. When I first saw the photo, I was more appalled by the cigarette in the then-20-year-old’s hand. 

What Would Diana Say?

There are currently several organizations and websites whose goal is to “reclaim” the swastika. They want it to once again to stand as a beautiful symbol for victory and good luck and they stress that it was in use in various cultures around the world for many centuries before the Nazis appropriated it. Very true. Here are some images from one of these websites trying to make the case for the swastika’s “innocence.” On the top is a Hindu temple in India along with a sign for a gold-mining town in Ontario that was given the name “Swastika” for good luck in the early 1900s. On the bottom is a 1916 photo of the Edmonton Swastikas, a Canadian women’s ice hockey team, and a lucky charm put out by the Coca-Cola Company in the 1920s.

 

To all those who want to start using the swastika as a positive symbol, I say one thing: Don’t you have anything better to do with your time? It ain’t gonna happen—I hope. At least not for many generations to come. I’m not saying we should run in fear of the simple, attractive symbol or hack it out of any pre-Nazi architecture. But to all of us who llived through or were born after World War II, the swastika will always represent a regime that is responsible for the unrelenting persecution and grisly murder of millions and millions of people. I’ll never forget the first time I saw an American Nazi in full regalia on the streets of downtown Chicago. I was about 12 years old and he was standing on State Street blathering his racist views to an uninterested crowd. After seeing so many newsreels of the Nazis, seeing the black-and-red swastika armband on this living and breathing person took my breath away. Since then I’ve run into people on occasion with swastika tattoos. Sorry, but as long as that tattoo is in view, nothing on earth could make me want to be anywhere near that person.

Obviously Genevieve Morton, Taylor Swift, and Prince Harry are NOT closet Nazis. What worries me more is that they and many of the young people who see these photos may not be as familiar with their recent history as they should be. As the number of people on this planet who were alive during World War II continues to dwindle, and with world history given such short shrift in many of our budget-plagued school systems, I worry that future editions of Sports Illustrated’s stupid swimsuit issue may contain models wearing swastika bikinis without anyone thinking anything of it.  

Charlie Miller, Supermodel

I can’t stop posting photos of Charlie, especially ones taken by my insanely talented 14-year-old nephew, Spencer Miller Tweedy, Boy Genius. Spencer and family were in town last weekend and he just posted on his blog some of the photos he took of his first cousin. Here are a few of my favorites:

 

 

 

 

Fantastic! I just wish I had Spencer's photographic abilities (and his camera!). Of course Charlie IS the perfect model! When my family first arrived, we went straight from the airport to CBS Television City on Fairfax because Wilco was appearing on "The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson" that night. What fun! Although I spend part of nearly every day at next door's Farmers Market, I hadn't been in Television City since the early 1970s when we went to see tapings of Jim Nabors' and Merv Griffin's shows. 

When the building opened in 1952, it was the height of space age modernity. Built on the site of the old Gilmore Stadium, it used to border the now demolished Pan-Pacific Auditorium where Elvis once appeared. So many classic TV shows were shot within those walls. "The Price Is Right" has been taping in Studio 33 since 1972. "The Carol Burnett Show" was shot here between 1967 and 1978 (I remember when we were at "The Jim Nabors Show," dancers from Carol Burnett came over to watch Juliet Prowse perform). The studio was home to "Burns and Allen," the west coast feed of "The Ed Sullivan Show," "Hollywood Squares," the entire run of "The Match Game" with our pals Charles Nelson Reilly and Brett Somers, "The Smothers Brothers" and "Sonny and Cher," "All in the Family," "Maude," "Good Times," "The Jeffersons," "One Day at a Time," and so many others. 

I always love wandering around TV studios and was surprised at how free we were to snoop about to our heart's content. Wilco did a great performance of the song "One Wing" but unlike other talk shows, the guys had to record their number just before the actual taping. That's because Ferguson's studio is so unbelievably small they have to push his desk and chairs aside to make room for the musical act. Later it's edited together to make it seem like Ferguson is really introducing the band.

Before we left we wandered onto the set for "The Price Is Right." Here are some cool pix Spencer took that day:

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here is one last animated gif Spencer took. I hereby name him Charlie's official photographer. Come back soon, Spencer, Charlie is ready for his close-up!

        

Charlie Laughs at the Oscars

 

My son thinks today’s Oscar nominations are a scream! Actually, in an attempt not to cross the line into complete DaddyBloggery, I’m combining the really exciting news of Charlies first sustained laughs with the rather boring news of the Oscar noms. We did watch the announcement together and he seemed riveted. I was just tired. I woke up from what I thought was a long sound sleep, thinking it must be at least 5 or 6, am, only to discover that it was only 12:15 am! I was so sure something was wrong with the time on my iPod that I checked every single clock in our house. Oy. Was it just the sheer anticipation of the early morning announcement by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences? Not bloody likely—I shouldn’t even be commenting on the nominations this year. Last year was my Personal Best that will probably never be repeated. I not only saw every single film that was nominated (including the foreign films), I correctly predicted every major Oscar race, even Penelope Cruz for Best Supporting Actress which I thought was a major long shot.

This year, I’ve only seen a handful of the films, but I guess that still won’t stop me from predicting the winners—it’s a “Jew Eat Yet?” tradition. We’ll get to Charlie’s laughing later.

Before I continue, let me express my disappointment over one glaring omission. Our good friend Matthew Tyrnauer (if you’ve read Kendall’s book you may remember Matthew) had made the Oscar short list for his brilliant and hugely successful documentary “Valentino: The Last Emperor.” I was sure he’d clinch the nomination, but alas, it went to five “more serious” documentaries including “Food, Inc.” “Burma VJ,” and “Which Way Home.” Damn it. Don’t the Academy members realize that there’s nothing more serious than an Italian Fashion Diva preparing a major collection?

Here are Charlie and my predictions for the top prizes:

Best Supporting Actor: I’ve only seen two of these performances, Stanley Tucci’s very creepy serial killer in “The Lovely Bones” and Christoph Waltz’s uber-creepy Nazi in “Inglorious Basterds.” Our old pal Captain Von Trapp, aka Christopher Plummer, is nominated for his role as Leo Tolstoy in “The Last Station” (how is that a supporting role?). I’m sure he’s great and I can’t wait to see it but I don’t think the Academy voters will give it to him. At 80, it’s amazing to me that this is his first Oscar nomination. Woody Harrelson is nominated for “The Messenger.” Did this tough military drama play in the theatres for more than five minutes? At least the nomination will bring it back—but Harrelson won’t win. I also want to see “Invictus,” for which an accented Matt Damon is nominated for playing the captain of the South African rugby team. It’s his third nomination and he won one in 1998. Not this year, though. No, I think it’s between the two creepiest performances I mentioned earlier, and I’m going to give it to Austrian actor Christoph Waltz for playing one of the most charismatically evil Nazis even seen in a fantasy film about World War II. He’s fantastic in the part and I think being foreign helps—the Academy tends to favor non-American actors.

Best Supporting Actress: I actually saw all five of these performances but let’s cut to the chase and say right up front that Mo’Nique is going to win for her harrowing portrayal of the abusive mother in “Precious.” There’s no question about it, and it was an incredible performance. Too bad for the rest of the stellar nominees, though. Penelope Cruz managed to eke out the only acting nomination for “Nine,” based, I’m sure, on her orgasmic musical number when she slides down that silky pink slide and for her crazy line that every Academy member wishes they could hear from her: “I’ll be waiting for you…with my legs open.” Oy. I thought both Vera Farmiga and Anna Kendrick were great in “Up in the Air” even though I wasn’t as gaga for this film as some people were. After loving Farmiga a few years ago as the mother in “The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas,” I was positive that she was really German since she seemed so perfectly cast. Turns out she was born in  New Jersey. Who knew? However she was raised in a close-knit Ukrainian family and didn’t learn English until she was six! I was very moved by Maggie Gyllenhaal’s performance in “Crazy Heart” and am always transfixed by her acting. But sorry, gals, better start clearing the aisle for Mo’Nique.

Best Actor: I only saw Jeff Bridge’s superb performance in “Crazy Heart” and the always excellent George Clooney in “Up in the Air.” I am anxious to see Colin Firth playing a gay man in the early 1960s in “A Single Man” as well as Morgan Freeman’s regal turn as Nelson Mandela in “Invictus.” I’d never even heard the name Jeremy Renner until this morning but it’s nice to have a newcomer in this category. I do want to see his film “The Hurt Locker” and will make it there before the Oscar telecast. But I think this category has another shoo-in. Jeff Bridges has to win for his dead-on portrayal of washed up country singer Bad Blake in “Crazy Heart.” It’s his fifth nomination (his first was a whopping 38 years ago for “The Last Picture Show”), he’s a fantastic actor, he is well liked in this town, comes from a beloved acting family, is still incredibly good looking at the age of 60, and it’s definitely his year. Go, Jeff!

Best Actress: This category is the hardest to predict. I’ve seen three of the five performances. Meryl Streep was absolute perfection as Julia Child in “Julie and Julia” but the modern parts of the film starring Amy Adams were not that hot and I don’t think Streep will take home another prize. Many people (including my daughter) think Sandra Bullock is the favorite for her role in “The Blind Side” and I’m sure she’s very good and may win, but I refuse to give it to her based solely on her horrible performance in the beyond horrible film “All About Steve” which was also released last year. How that total piece of shit ever got made is beyond me. And because Bullock also produced it, I hold her doubly accountable. I know that’s not fair and that each performance should be judged on its own merits. So sue me, Sandra. I loved Carey Mulligan in “An Education” and loved every second of this film, also set in the early 1960s. 24-year-old Mulligan has a great future ahead of her (I just heard she’s starring in a remake of “My Fair Lady.” Oy!) but I’d be shocked if she took home an Oscar this year. I worship the ground that Dame Helen Mirren walks on even though I have yet to see her performance as Sofya Tolstoy in “The Last Station.” This is her fourth Oscar nomination and she won in 2007 for “The Queen.” My only roundabout connection to Mirren is that her hair and make-up person made up my sister for the 2007 Grammys. Okay, it’s a stretch. The actress I am going to predict as the winner this year, and I am reeeeeally going out on a limb here, is Gabourey Sidibe for her painful but amazing performance in “Precious.” It’s Sidibe’s first film but she was so perfect in this part I just want to see her up on that stage.

Best Picture: I hate, loathe, and despise the Academy’s new policy to nominate 10 films instead of 5. It’s absurd, and such a blatant marketing ploy to enable more studios to tout their films as a Best Picture Nominee. I’ve seen 7 of the 10 nominees and I can assure you that if it weren’t for this new policy, films like “District 9” and “Up” would not be on the list. This is a very difficult category to predict, there is no obvious shoo-in. As much as I didn’t think I was a Quentin Tarantino fan, if it were up to me, I’d give it to “Inglorious Basterds,” I just loved that film. For all the acclaim films like “An Education,” “A Serious Man,” and “Precious” have received, they just don’t feel like Best Picture winners. “Up in the Air” has a chance if the Academy voters were swayed by the notion that this is the thinking person’s choice, but I think it’s probably a race between “Avatar” and “The Hurt Locker,” films directed by people who were once married to each other. That has to be a first in Academy history (unless Ida Lupino and Howard Duff ever faced off). While I wanted to hate “Avatar” because of James Cameron’s seeming arrogance, I ended up liking it a lot even though I recognize some major flaws. But I’m going to follow my gut here and pick the film I haven’t seen yet, “The Hurt Locker,” because of its topical and more complex and disturbing message. I’d also like to see Kathryn Bigelow shove her Oscar in her ex-husband’s face.

And there you have it…for now. I’ll comment on the writers, directors, and other nominees at a later date. For now, I want to switch gears and show you Charlie’s latest laugh riot. Although he’s been smiling up a storm for weeks, it’s only lately that he’s been heard audibly giggling. One of the first times was with his Aunt Susie and Uncle Jeff this past weekend. But last night his cowboy-loving mother started making galloping horse sounds over dinner and Charlie went nuts. He also gets hysterical when we sing “Shall We Dance” and even “Hava Nagila.” By Oscar night I expect him to chortle his way through the entire telecast.

Important Addendum: Oh my God, Charlie IS Oscar-blessed! As I was writing this post an hour ago, Kendall and Charlie were a few blocks away at Farmers Market with our friend Amy. Sitting near Bob's Donuts, a woman in a wheelchair with a distinctive gravely voice, started admiring Charlie. Kendall turned around to see Oscar winner Patricia Neal gazing at our son and reaching out to him. She was with her daughter and both were surprised when Kendall and Amy immediately recognized Miss Neal. They discussed her magnificent Best Actress Oscar-winning performance as Alma Brown in "Hud" (47 years ago!) and other things, all the while the original Olivia Walton and the former wife of writer Roald Dahl cooed at Charlie. That's even better than when Warren Beatty, Tom Jones, and Kim Basinger approached Leah when she was a baby!

Grammy Apartheid

 

There’s a fascinating thing that happens on the red carpet at awards shows and other gala affairs in this town. On Friday night I went to a fabulous Neil Young tribute put on by the Grammy charity organization called Musicares. Each year, just before the Grammys, they honor a Person of the Year and this year an amazing roster of talent came out to celebrate Neil Young. The above photo is of Wilco on the red carpet. Here’s a sample of one of the more ditzy Grammy reporters accosting the band at the event:

(You can see a much more interesting interview with John Stirratt here.)

I arrived at the L.A Convention center a while before my family members and watched the well-heeled masses getting out of their limos. There were about 2500 people attending this tribute and while many of them play important roles in the music industry, most of them are not deemed red carpet-worthy. At most of these events, including the actual Grammy Awards which were held last night at the next-door Staples Center, there are TWO red carpets. One leading to the phalanx of cameras and reporters and the other one for mere mortals who are simply attending the event. But here’s the problem. As the glitterati  exit their limousines, the people working the event have only a few seconds to deftly guide the new arrivals to the correct red carpet. If they don’t do it quickly and discreetly, it can lead to embarrassing moments that send an unmistakable message: “You may think you’re famous, but no one wants to take your picture. Please go over to the other line.” I found the whole thing very unsettling and felt for the hapless saps who accidentally (or on purpose) started wandering down the main red carpet only to be yanked back by the hired guns. I couldn’t help but think of the infamous Dr. Mengele standing among the hordes of new arrivals at Auschwitz, using his finger to divide the people into two lines, one for those he felt could be of some use to the Nazis, and the other one going straight to the gas chambers. Left, right, left, left, right, right, left.

My sister and the other Wilco wives began on the “real” red carpet but were quickly asked to move ahead so that reporters could interview the boys. Many publications were there from Rolling Stone to Soap Opera Digest. At one point I climbed up on a photographer’s platform to watch the arrivals. While no one needed help recognizing folks like David Crosby, Jackson Browne, or the Red Hot Chili Peppers, potentially embarrassing moments were avoided thanks to a woman walking discreetly behind some of the stars holding up an erasable white board with their name prominently displayed. This allowed the photographers to scream the right name, trying to get the celebrity’s attention even if they had no clue who they were. Some of the reporters went nuts over people I had never heard of, mostly country music stars or Spanish language performers. 83-year-old Tony Bennett caused quite a stir (deservedly so) when he arrived with his daughter. Matthew McConaughey worked the line with movie star expertise and glamour-boy insouciance, flashing his pearly whites at every single photographer who called out his name. He and his Brazilian supermodel wife were criticized by some the next day for attending an event so soon after the arrival of their second daughter. All I heard was women around me gasping that Camila’s perfect body had delivered a baby a few weeks earlier.

Nicole Kidman, accompanying hubby Keith Urban who performed in the concert with John Fogerty (and was surprisingly good), tried to bypass the photographers by dashing by on the other red carpet reserved for drones. It didn’t work. Towering above most people, including her husband, the photographers spotted Kidman and immediately abandoned their official prey to sprint towards Nicole (almost knocking me down in the process) to snap her photo. Sensing her ruse had failed, she dutifully turned around and posed for a few glamour shots. Oy, what a scene.

The show itself was extraordinary. After a glitzed-out silent auction that included everything from a specially outfitted Grammy Acura, countless guitars signed by rockers, and a table full of only-in-L.A. items such as botox treatments and microderm abrasions, we were treated to a yummy dinner and then the tribute concert expertly hosted by Jack Black. There were so many amazing performers I couldn’t even begin to list them, each one singing a Neil Young song and sending love to Neil and his wife Pegi who were sitting up front soaking it in. Wilco knocked it out of the park with a fantastic rendition of Young’s “Broken Arrow,” not the easiest song to perform. John Mellencamp sang “Down by the River.” Norah Jones did “Tell Me Why,” Ben Harper performed a moving “Ohio,” and Jackson Browne sang “Don’t Let it Bring You Down.”

When I arrived and tried to get my ticket, they tried to seat me with Lady Antebellum. “Who?” I said. “Aren’t you Daniel Miller of Lady Antebellum?” I’ve never heard of them,” I said. But I liked them when they sang “Only Love Can Break Your Heart.” There were so many others, from James Taylor to Emmylou Harris. Elton John, my brother-in-law’s new BFF, sang “Helpless” with Sheryl Crow (can I play the piano like Elton John in my next life?) and Crosby, Stills, and Nash peformed “Human Highway.” Hearing all of these songs, it was impossible not to be in awe of Neil Young’s talent. He didn’t perform with his old pals, which was a little disappointing, but he spoke briefly and eloquently of his life and career. Here’s the only video clip of the event I could find that, unfortunately, does not include Wilco’s performance:

Wilco was nominated for Best Americana Album but lost last night to Levon Helm. I love Helm, both for his music and his role as Sissy Spacek’s father in “Coal Miner’s Daughter!” In addition to my sister, brother-in-law, and nephews, I attended Friday’s Grammy event with two of my favorite people, Pam and Jim Allyn who flew in from New York. Pam and Jim run two amazing organizations, LitLife and LitWorld. If you’re looking for a nonprofit that is helping children all over this planet, please donate to LitWorld. I was honored to edit seven of Pam’s books for Scholastic and am here to say she is one of our country’s leading voices on literacy. She’s also a huge Neil Young (and Wilco) fan!