Breathe

Filming a scene with Garcelle Beauvais on the set of "Eyes to See"

Filming just wrapped on the movie inspired by our team's work in Haiti after the earthquake. It's often hard to walk away from a prodution because of the bonds formed with the cast and crew. 

This time was no different.

Eyes to See, starring Matthew Marsden (Rambo, Transformers), is about a cameraman forced to choose between helping people and doing his job after the earthquake. An actor asked how I felt being on set after having experienced the tragedy firsthand. "Like I can breathe again," I answered.

Actors taking a break on the LA set of "Eyes to See"

Despite working 12-hour days covered in fake blood and dirt,  shooting dozens of takes at 2 am and enduring blistering heat, my lungs filled with the air of creativity and purpose.

Few doors have opened for me to tell meaningful stories since moving to LA and just when it seems I'll have to go back to covering pimps and perverts, a project like this comes along.

Struggling to finish the film in Haiti, director Dave de Vos wondered if it was worth it. "And then I stand here where so many lives were lost," he says, "I see the spirit of the Haitian people, the smiles of the children, and the hope for the future, and I remember."

Dave is donating the film's royalties to a Haitian rebuilding nonprofit. My part is small in comparison but I'm grateful to play a role. Grateful this movie isn't about egos. Grateful to put my head up and breathe.

"I remember our call to help the least, the last and the lost; our mission to shine a light on hope. That's why we have to get it right." ~Dave de Vos

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Action!

Filming "Eyes to See" at Blue Cloud Ranchi in California

Back on set! I have a small part in the film inspired by our trip to Haiti after the earthquake. Eyes to See tells the story of the disaster's aftermath through the eyes of a news photographer. With a cast led by Matthew Marsden (Rambo, Transformers) and Garcelle Beauvais (NYPD Blue, The Jaime Foxx Show), director Dave de Vos says "it's a story of hope even amidst the tragedy."

I feel a bit emotional on set. My thoughts go back to the ruins of Port au Prince.  Even though it's been nine months, the suffering remains so great. This week a worker at the orphanage where we stayed said one of the kids may not make it through the night due to a brain infection. "Don't let them stick me with needles," little Juno told doctors, "They hurt!!!"

Fortunately it looks like surgeons will be able to save Juno's life but what about his future? No family. Sick. And yet...dare we dream for him? With him?

Yes...not because this film will make a difference in his life, but because hope refuses to stay buried in the rubble.

Nine months ago when people asked me why face the risks in Haiti, I answered, "This is a moment in history in which I've been invited to play a role. How can I say no?"  

I have the same feeling on set:  a sense of being in the right place, at the right time, with the right people - a trifecta of grace. 

Map vini an Ayiti anko. I will return to Haiti.

Sadly Juno (hugging the stuffed animal above) died a few weeks after I wrote this post.

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Haiti Film Underway!

Actor Nikki Storm prepares to film a scene in "Eyes to See" at Blue Cloud Ranchi

Filming has started on the movie inspired by our Haiti team! Eyes to See stars Matthew Marsden (Rambo and Transformers) and Garcelle Beauvais, a native Haitian known (NYPD Blue, Franklin & Bash).  The film is about a photographer forced to choose between doing his job and helping people after the earthquake.

Nine months after the disaster, orphanage workers tell us the children are coping despite immense suffering. Grief though, finds a way to assert itself. unstoppable tears. pain. anger.

Grief still feels foreign to me.  Being a reporter demands staying emotionally disconnected in order to handle the violence and death of the lens through which we see the world. 

A few years ago the news reported that a mom had thrown her three babies into the San Francisco Bay. The tide swept away the tiny bodies before anyone could save them.  Divers were searching by the Golden Gate Bridge near where I lived at the time.

I walked the Bay half-hoping to find a miracle. "God, you've made me unfit for news," I wept. Away from the crime beat, I was discovering tears I'd never shed no matter how many murders I saw.

Today I was thinking about something a friend wrote while keeping vigil at his dad's bedside. "Jesus wept," he'd written, "but not tears of despair."  

Jesus wept. The shortest verse in the Bible. 

And a thought came to me that made grief ok: sometimes tears precede miracles.

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Navigating Love

As friends pray for a miracle to save their dad's life, I'm amazed at the strength of their faith. It's made me think about family. Love.

Back when we owned a big, white Buick and no one wore seatbelts, I loved being my dad's navigator on road trips. He'd let me read the map even though I'd sometimes get us lost.

I remember a near-miss one winter. Icy roads. A car plowing through a red light. A thick utility pole. My dad's split-second decision - throwing his body across mine, trying to save me from the impact.

Another memory...one trip where my dad entrusted me with his big bag of coins for the tolls. Leaning across him, I'd toss our fare into the bucket. 

"Pay the toll," he said at the second plaza.  

"But I paid it last time," I said. 

"What do you mean?'" he demanded. 

"I already paid it," I insisted.

Not knowing the coins were meant to last us through three states, I'd emptied the bag into the first toll without him noticing.  My dad dug out his wallet to pay the fare.

I eventually grew up, bought my own car, moved cross country to work in TV.  Family took a backseat to career.  Dad and I struggled to navigate love far apart.

One foggy day, a near miss. A car swerves into my lane. I pull over, shaken. A memory from years ago. Icy roads. A utility pole. My father shielding my body with his. 

"Your dad would do the same thing all over again," I sensed God saying.

Our car had stopped inches from the pole that day when my dad had been willing to sacrifice his life for mine. Pain and distance melted away. I was again navigating safely at my father's side.

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The One That Got Away

Ty Penning, "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition." Photo:  Getty Images

Lately I've been thinking about the one that got away.  Not a man.  The Dream Job.

Extreme Makeover: Home Edition was holding an international search for a new designer. Some of you know my passion for architecture and design. I've studied the trade since writing an interior design newspaper column and eventually earned my General Contractor's license.

I decided to send the casting director my materials even though I'd be up again some of the most talented designers in the world. I was stunned to get called in to audition out of thousands of hopefuls. 

I drove to the studio early the day of the audition so that I'd have time to freshen up; make sure I didn't have toilet paper stuck to my shoe.  

The director conducted an interview-style audition, judging personality and skill. That type of tryout can be challenging since there is no scripted dialogue to help guide the audition but after years of ad-libbing breaking news live shots, I was in my element. 

I got a call-back.

Then the door suddenly closed.  The star host's arrest for DUI put the search on hold. Indefinitely. Ty Pennington quickly apologized with the show's future was in jeopardy. 

So that's the one that got away. And, like all first loves, you never forget.

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Brazilians and Bachelors

Brazil got me thinking about love and affection. Everyone greeted us with hugs and kisses; there are no strangers in Brazil.  So different than our American culture where anything more than a quick handshake is suspect.

The touchy-feely Brazilian nature is as foreign to me as the language. Growing up on military bases, salutes were exchanged more than hugs. In Brazil I challenged myself to let down my guard, to the amazement of friends back home.

"You couldn't even share a bed with me," Tina reminded me, "You asked the hotel for a cot." Yes, but who sleeps with the bride the night before her wedding?

Why is it so hard to speak the language of affection?  Is our addiction to shows like the The Bachelor a way of meeting an unmet craving for intimacy?

Season 3's Bachelor lived near me so I watched as 25 women competed for the rose. Meet Andrew Firestone and enter to win a year's supply of Top Ramen, our grocery store would have these absurd promotions.

The neighbors were truly sad when Andrew's engagement fizzled. What did they expect? In 14 seasons, no bachelor has ever married the lover holding the final rose.

"Harmless habit," friends defend tuning in to a show with a 100% failure rate. Or is it porn for the heart? Cheap romance to fill a void? Exotic locales, steamy kisses, rose-petal strewn bedrooms. "It's the fairytale aspect," said one writer.

Of course. Fantasy sell. Sex and champagne can woo a heart for a season. But tenderness and affection? They'll win it for a lifetime.

Do you know what it means to come home to a woman who gives you a little tenderness and affection?  It means you're in the wrong house. 
~Henry Youngman

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Better than Botox

Just when I decided to put away the skateboard and stop playing video games and embrace the whole aging thing, everything changed.

Blame Steve Jobs.

I used to be an early adopter - until it got ridiculously expensive and Apple became the world's fastest-growing cult. I've never been a conformist.

And then I held it: the. tablet.  I was minding my own business on the Santa Monica Promenade when I saw one of the glistening jewels sitting alone on a store display table.  Very odd, since the other iPads were surrounded three-deep by cult members.

The serpent seduced with the Apple.  In my hands was the fountain of youth. Videogames. Comics. Disney on demand.  The 9.7" capsule held an elixir far more potent than Botox. I was transformed like Queen Gimhilde  in Snow White, the magic mirror at my command.

Then I felt eyes drilling into the back of my head. A boy glared at me as if to say, "Lady, you look ridiculous playing video games with curlers in your hair."  

The spell was broken. 

I gingerly put down the tablet.  I was saved. My bank account not depleted by $499. Plus tax. Plus data plan. Plus accessories. Plus apps.

You almost had me, Mr. Jobs. And just for the record, I wasn't wearing curlers.

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