Superheroes

Tobey McGuire stars as "Spiderman."  Photo: Oh My Magazine

"Can you be at the casting studio at 2:30?" my agent asked. "Sure," I said. Checking my email, I saw a problem.  The director wanted to see tall actors for a role opposite a Superhero. Though only 5'2," I knew I could nail the part: She's tough, lean and statuesque.  So I put on my 4" heels and strutted to the audition.

The director liked my audition. I would love to be cast as the Superhero. Who said crimefighters have to be tall? Tobey Maguire is only 5'8" and that didn't stop him from becoming Spiderman.

I was one of those kids who honestly believed that I was born with superhuman powers. Accompanied by my Superdoll, Dusty, I would climb the highest trees, whip bullies on the playground, race cars on my bike - all in training to save mankind.

I would tie a makeshift parachute to Dusty and throw her off a cliff into a pile of leaves (some stunts I knew better than to risk myself) to make her fly. 

One awful day, Dusty missed the landing pad. She crashed with a horrific snap on the concrete. Her head snapped off with a "pop" like the sound of someone prying off a bottle cap.

"Your dad came home to find you prostrated with grief," my mother recalls. "He got a shoebox and shovel and out to the backyard went gravedigger and chief mourner. The beheaded dolly was buried amid tears and deep sorrow."

She bought me a new doll but it was never the same as Dusty. 

That day I learned even Superheroes are mortal.

These days my definition of a Superhero is different. They're the ones whose faith births miracles.  Who love the unlovable. Who remain hidden so others can shine. 

Their courage produces a divine exchange: beauty for ashes; joy for sorrow; strength for weakness. Their names are Melissa, Steve, Phil, Esther, Jackie...friends who's hearts are set ablaze with a vision to rock the world with their gifts.

Oh, in my heart I still dream of whipping bad guys and ridding the world of evil. And if the call comes to play a Superhero, a less-than-statuesque physique won't stop me any more than it did Tobey.  Besides, like the world's top webslinger, I'm a journalist - already have the perfect cover.

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Rebirth

Looking out the window, I was surprised to see leaves falling from a tree. I live at the ocean surrounded mostly by palms and evergreens.  Early darkness is one of the only signs of the seasons changing.

I don't miss winter. Back in the midwest, covering the crime beat for TV news often meant spending hours outside in blizzard conditions; murders, fires, kidnappings - they don't stop for winter.

My photographer and I once got stranded in an icestorm when our satellite truck's mast froze in the air (a safety device keeps the truck from moving unless the mast is down).

No matter how hard Mike hacked away at the ice, the mast would refreeze faster than he could scrape.

We were stuck. Frostbite. Hypothermia. Possibly freezing to death...

We put in an emergency call to highway patrol. "The roads are impassable," the dispatcher couldn't tell when help would rescue us. "We've got to try to reach the accidents first."

We'd be ok as long as we had gas to run the heater.  A State Trooper eventually saved us.

We endured a brutal, fatal winter that year. I left soon afterward and never moved back.

Hollywood lately has felt like winter - barren. bleak. destiny choked under a mound of frozen dirt.

But watching those leaves fall reminded me that there's a season for all things. We survive the storms. Barrenness yields to rebirth. Hold on to the promise as long as it takes.

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Love Affairs

Tiger Woods. Photo: The Guardian

I wish it wasn't true, all the rumors about Tiger Woods and his alleged lovers. I promised not to write about sex and affairs and the wreckage you see in Hollywood but the topic keeps coming up.

Actually, it seems most people I know are longing for so much more in relationships.

It's easy to fall in love in Hollywood. Problem is it's usually not real love. obsession. creative synergy. sex addiction...

But so few of us seem to know what true love is that it's hard to tell the counterfeit.

"True love is often unglamorous," my friend Karin said. It often can't sustain the passion, heat and intensity of lust or a love affair born out of birthing a vision with someone.

You may be making a feature film together or putting on a charity fundraiser - it's easy to fall for your co-creator. even if one of you is married.  Creative connection - the reason so many actors jump from one bed to another.

So how do you know true love versus the fake? Well, I guess we're going on a journey to find out.

And just for the record, I don't advocate whacking a cheating spouse with a golf club. Abuse is never right in any relationship. Tell someone if it's happening to you.

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Cops, Robbers and Bunnies

We all know God could have stopped Adam and Eve from eating the forbidden fruit. But He didn’t. Free will. 

Choice is a tricky thing; Adam and Eve missed their full potential because of it. I know I’m not the only one who can relate.

In second grade I wrote a story about a bunny that my teacher submitted to a publisher. I remember the principal and teacher waiting for me in the hall. I thought I was in trouble.

Instead, they said the publisher wanted to turn my story into a book. “They want you to write about what happens to the bunny after he goes in his hole,” my teacher said excitedly.

I froze. Pitch black darkness, that’s what happens. Maybe the bunny dies down there. 

“I don’t know what happens,” I said. Second grade and already paralyzed by the fear of failure.

Years later as a TV crime reporter, I’d graduated from writing about bunnies to writing about burglars and bank robbers. The networks soon came calling.

“We have a position for you,” said Joan at CBS New York. Instantly, I was back in second grade. 

Pitch black darkness. Maybe the bunny dies. 

“I just started my job," I said. It’s too cold there.” Lame excuses.

“You have to write about it,” my friend Maria urged, “It's relevant. Overcoming fear is part of the process." 

Deal with it, she insists, "because something big is coming for you. I can feel it.”

So maybe destiny is more grace than choice - offering courage to overcome fear. Destiny. Free will. Opportunity. This time I will say yes.

Oh, and what was the bunny doing in his hole?  Dancing, of course.

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Running Away

Maria Peterson Photography

Once when I was about seven years old, I ran away from home. Took my bike. And my little brother. Didn't occur to me we'd need food. or water. or money. 

I had found a place for us to live - an old, abandoned gym near our house. One of the windows was busted out and we could slip in through there. 

Didn't occur to me it was breaking and entering.

We made it to the building five blocks away before our older sister chased us down on her bike. "You're in big trouble," she declared triumphantly. 

The gig was up 30 minutes later.  

Funny thing is I really thought we'd be gone forever. Just me. My bike. And my little brother.

Lately I've felt like running away...one of those seasons where everything within is  screams for change. Movement. Breakthrough. 

Yet life feels confined. Limited. Stifled by lack of opportunity to fully engage the creative self.

Problem is when you're an adult, running away isn't nearly as simple as when you're seven and all you want is a bike and a companion. Adulthood complicates things. What about my apartment? My job? Where will I sleep? Is it really running away if the Facebook universe can find me?

So instead of running away, I wait for the vision to come to pass. Try not to despise the small beginnings. Cling to Faith. Being sure of what I hope for and certain of what I do not see. 

Besides, I don't think my brother would go for breaking and entering anymore.

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Honor

Dear Hero,

I remember the first time I saw the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C. I scanned the thousands of names. put my hand out. touched the smooth, cold granite. cried tears of relief at the miracle that your name is not written there. 

I'm so grateful you came home from the battlefield.

I can't imagine the sacrifices you've made for me to grow up free; in a country where I as a black woman can vote, drive a car, worship - freedoms I've tried not to take for granted.

When I was a kid, you would take me with you when you trained the Army recruits. You saw that I had courage (reckless at times!) and let me train alongside the soldiers.  Rock climbing, flying in helicopters, learning to handle a weapon...

Remember the day I fell rappelling? All you could do was watch as my body slammed into the rocks until the safety rope pulled taut. Miraculously, not one broken bone. You've been like that safety rope - pulling taut when I stumble but never stopping me from climbing.

After the 9/11 terrorist attacks, I asked what you would say if you had to address the nation. You answered, "God bless the USA." 

You've fought the good fight and today you would still die for this country. Major, you are an amazing man.

Happy Veteran's Day, Dad,
Your Butterfly

(2008 to my father who fought for our freedom for more than two decades and would re-enlist now in his '70's...if the military would let him.)

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Red Carpets & Cattle Calls

Cattle call audition - about as far from the red carpet as talent can get in Hollywood. Wisegeek calls it, "an audition in which hundreds or even thousands of performers vie for roles. The chances of winning a major role through a cattle call are notoriously slim."

I stood in line with dozens of actors and models crammed into the poorly-ventilated waiting room for a shot at a national print campaign - and a big payday. 

Knowing most of us would get cut in the first round, waiting almost didn't seem worth the cost of the Sunset Boulevard parking garage.  

Some actors left rather than sit around for hours.

This is the first time I've experienced the LA cattle call. As I debated whether to stay or not, a word popped into my head: perseverance.

"Someone's going to book this gig," I thought, "Someone who perseveres."

So I pulled out my phone, clicked on Facebook and waited for my few seconds in front of the camera. Number 1104.

It's been said Hollywood kills far more dreams than it brings to life. I'm not so sure about that. I wonder if it's just that far more dreamers quit than persevere.

"Success seems to be largely a matter of hanging on after others have let go." 
~William Feather

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