The Bird

Technically, my commitment to blog every day ended two days ago, but I haven't been able to stop. I was thinking of it as an obsession; it was bound to happen. But my friend, Cindy, who had made the same commitment, also wrote yesterday. She referred to it as her "writing habit." That sounds better.

Anyway, I thought of one more story that I haven't told yet...

Do you know who George Gaynes is? You will most likely remember him--if you remember him at all--from several of the Police Academy movies. He was also in Doctors' Wives and The Way We Were. Neither one of those merited him a credit in the "1999 Video Movie Guide." I never saw Doctors' Wives (which, by the way, got a black turkey silhouette as a rating), but I remember my mother saying that he had been shot off of Diane Cannon while making love. In The Way We Were, he played a doorman. He was in a scene with both Robert Redford and Barbara Streisand. I think both of those roles should have netted him at least an honorable mention, but I was not allowed to vote.

I know George Gaynes from when he came to Mott Community College in Flint, Michigan in 1971 or 1972 for a role in The Heiress. My Awesome Husband Greg was "Morris." At the time, Mr. Gaynes had only Doctors' Wives to his credit, but it was still a big deal for such an esteemed actor to grace our community college theater with his presence.

Greg's mom deserved an academy award for her role as "Most Thrilled" in all of this. She asked Greg to invite Mr. Gaynes to the house for dinner, which he did. G.G. accepted!

At that point in my life, I'm sure I didn't know George Gaynes from Santa Claus, but I was happy to be invited as well. I was after all, not yet Awesome Greg's wife. My role was that of "girlfriend." I was living in my own apartment near the library, and working at First Federal of Oakland, which was housed in a trailer beside the Yankee's parking lot out on M-21. I had no car. Greg, being as awesome then as he is now, often picked me up after work and drove me home. I was expecting him the day Mr. Gaynes was coming to dinner. But when it was time for me to leave, there was no sign of his awesome wheels. I was steamed, and walked the mile to my apartment in a huff, talking to myself on the way just to fuel my sense of injustice at being forgotten.

Meanwhile, Greg had the revered thespian in his car and was running only a little bit late. He said, "We'll go by and see if we can catch her." So he drove along the same route I had just walked--in uncomfortable shoes--and caught up with me when I was a block from my apartment. Caught midway through what I'm certain was a spectacular mental rant, I heard his horn and saw the light turquoise of his mother's BelAire out of the corner of my eye at the same moment. My left hand shot up with the middle finger extended.

It was a good story at dinner that night. Mr. Gaynes, in his deep theatrical voice, had said, "My goodness! Does she always greet you that way?"

(The house pictured above was owned by the Finnell family. I had spent many happy hours babysitting there. My apartment was in a house located behind this one. The incident related in this post happened right here, in front of the Finnell's beautiful home.)