uncle hollywood

baby-mooning: everybody’s doing it.

Tue, 13 Jul 2010 18:08:29 -0700

I just returned from my very first 'babymoon'.

It wasn’t mine actually; I was a mere witness to someone else’s ‘babymoon’. I had not heard the term before this weekend and when I did, i was skeptical. But now, I’m a believer. I may even become an evangelist. I feel like spreading the word to the world. Thou shall go on a 'babymoon'. I think it should be a commandment for all expecting parents. Prenatal health insurance should pay for it. Heck, it should be mandatory federal law: Baby-moons or jail.

A ‘babymoon’ is the au courant term for a honeymoon-like vacation or getaway that soon to be parents take as a last hurrah before the baby arrives.

I didn’t make this up. It’s legit. The New York Times wrote about it in 2007 and since then it’s become so trendy that even luxurious high-end hotels, airlines and frou-frou all-encompassing spa and vacation packages have gotten in on the act. But the babymoon I saw, amidst the ancient redwoods and crashing seas of Big Sur, cost very little and was pretty priceless.

I’m not sure what the famous baby doctor, Dr. Spock, would say about the phenomenon, but I suspect he would approve of what I witnessed this weekend.

My friends Karen and Lucas put a twist on the whole thing. They combined their babymoon with a wedding, and threw in a honeymoon while they were at it. The whole thing has made a believer out of me again. It’s true, babies DO bring people together.

Karen, a Hollywood set decorator and writer, had been trying to adopt for years when she met Lucas, a Venice skateboarding musician internet whiz kid. They fell for each other. And then decided to live together.
That’s when I met them.

I moved into the guesthouse behind their home and suddenly our lives were separated by only a green picket fence and a fig tree under which the owners of the property had planted the placentas of their babies. They said it was intended to bring good karma and more babies.

Karen and Lucas are no longer in their 20s or 30s. So, like me, they are past the point of silly idealist romantic notions and I think they had all but given up on the Hollywood make believe fantasy of love and marriage and the miracle of babies. But it happened. The miraculous. The fruit of the fig tree bore more fruit. Karen and Lucas got pregnant. Then they got engaged. I saw it with my own four eyes.

And so the mooning began. Hence the trek to Big Sur.

It started with the marriage itself.

The problem with any wedding is that it usually involves lots of people and with that comes plenty of stress and conflict and family and a big party. This was just about them, and just about the most unique intimate thing I have ever experienced.

Karen a beautiful, bountiful 6 months pregnant and Lucas, the ever-earnest, father to be have timelessness about themselves and their relationship; they are old souls wondering around the modern world. As they made their vows, I was their witness, standing next to them like a proverbial guest house, this time separated this time by a new age minister and shaman named Soaring.

My dogs, Curious and Meme served as the ring bearer and flower girl, respectively.

Soaring (really, that’s her name) placed her hands on their hearts and heads, then feet and asked them to they look out into the horizon - to see the endlessness of the union they were entering into. Then she placed a blessing on them and their son to be - Noah Jackson - who had a front row view of the nuptials, safe inside Karen’s maternal belly draped with a stylish Great Gatsby like dress.

And from out of nowhere, like the waves that crash on the rocky coastlines, a tide of unexpected tears and laughter washed over us, interrupting the service with a tsunami of emotion - baptizing this union, anointing this tribe to be. There they were, in the middle of the day, in the middle of their life, in the middle of nature with Soaring the shaman minister; devoid of artificial rituals, guests and gifts and artifice.

A holy circle sealed.

I knew I was witnessing something special. A birth. A pre-birth-birth. The birth of a family. The minister was a midwife. There is no how-to-book or manual or guide written for this wedding-baby-honey-life-moon. They were writing it as they went. The vows were personal, the prayers unpolished, and Karen, and Lucas – in some ways traditional folks on the outside - were just winging it. Out on a limb. Present to the moment.

Lucas wrote about in his face book account:

It couldn't have turned out better. It turned out to be a wedding for just us, or just for the marriage. It wasn't a last minute trip to Vegas and it wasn't a year long obsession. A strange and wonderful thing about the ceremony was that it turned into an ecstatic experience, along the lines of being born again or doing peyote in the desert. It was related to crying our eyes out with joy at the same time that Soaring did a complex series of new agey rituals.

I went back to the beach the next morning to take an early morning photo of the space as a keepsake and pick up on some day old residual blessings. Along the path a few left over rose pedals along with some dog pooh. Curious and Meme ran to the shoreline and trampled over a word that was etched in the sand:
Love.
 

Corny, I know. But there it was in big bold letters. Someone had come and gone at dawn and writ it in the sand.

In case you haven’t noticed, there is a real baby boom going on in society. What I have noticed in my circle is that people really WANT to have babies. And in this day and, they don’t HAVE to get married. But the remarkable thing is this: they are. Many of them are finding out that they WANT to do that too.

The umbilical cord seems to be leading to tying the knot.

I like to say, ‘some of my best friends are parents’. But I think I’ll start to claim this: ‘some of my best friends are about to be parents’. And to all of them I have one piece of advice: Do what Lucas and Karen and Noah did. Take a babymoon for godsakes. Now. Go away to create a space for the baby that will be arriving.

To many new parents in our world, the baby has become a prop, an accessory or a vanity creation. Babies are big business. When I think about the amount of time and money new parents spend getting the room ready with cribs and toys and gadgets, paint and wallpaper and mobiles - i get overwhelmed and wonder how many new parents skip the most important step in preparation. It’s not the room or the ‘place’ that is most important; it’s about creating space in the relationship.

Get out of Ikea and into the woods and celebrate the relationship that will house the child.

This is what Lucas and Karen created this past weekend. And if their baby-honey-life-love-moon is any indication, Noah’s room is ready. His place in the world, in their world, in their relationship, is so filled with love, It’s like a five star luxury suite.

And that is cause for a celebration – and - a darn good reason to take a vacation.

click here for a photo of what a big sur “___________-moon” can look like

soaring vows.

Sun, 11 Jul 2010 13:27:28 -0700

the chapel - where soaring vows were taken and preconceived notions were left behind.

freedom from: hollywood. 4 days and 5 hours away from la and not another screenwriter in sight.

Sun, 4 Jul 2010 08:11:53 -0700

i must say, a very very good way to spent the fourth of july. not to mention the fifth, sixth etc...

prince of persia prefers rwanda blend.

Wed, 2 Jun 2010 06:42:00 -0700

if something happens three times, i have to write about it.

so here goes.

i think jake gyllenhaal is stalking me. i’m clearly not stalking him, and this is not a coincidence anymore.

it started at the screening of prince of persia at grauman’s a few weeks ago. the movie was just awful. we knew it would be. but with the promise of high end hair extensions, an overly worked out body and jerry bruckheimer adrenalin polish, there is no question why he took on the role. you would too.

when it came time to watch the movie, jake in his first bigger than life role, we all pleasantly went in for the ride. the popcorn was free and the black ties aplenty - and the print was really good. at the after party, things got a little more uncomfortable, mainly because the lights were on, and eye contact had to be made. the crowd was small and insider enough that you had to comment on the film. after the awkward chit chat about the fine mediterranean catering and exquisite rice pudding subsided - in between small talk with sir ben kingsley and the fat kid from two and a half men (the richest kid in the whole of hollywood, maybe the world) - there were congratulations all the way around.

congratulations for what? for making the career leap to big time? for premiering and headlining at grauman’s. or simply for surviving the shoot? for showing up at all to the event? for what?

when you participate in a movie based on a video game, you know what you’re in for. and no one can deny, jake looks pretty good up there. (craig ferguson on jake - ‘he’s too pretty to be an action hero’). and though he did it, he fit in, it doesn’t mean america wants to see him all gussied up in period shackles. make no mistake, this was a passage for him, this was his party. he smiled and shook hands until he was ushered out discreetly - he stayed much later than any celebrity is contracted to do.

last weekend when jake started showing up at my coffee spot in silverlake, i got suspicious. here he was again. in my world, in my life - and now in MY space. sure, he’s the friendly celebrity, the one that smiles at babies and mothers and glances at everyone in the room, without making eye contact but also without looking through you the way some celebs do - or have learned to do.

the first time there, he met some friends. but then he started coming back. by himself. and at the same time i show up there.

you have to give him credit, here he was - the weekend his movie opened to mediocre reviews and a less than stellar box office - out and about in silverlake. maybe he wanted the world to know, ‘i am not that cheese ball character, as convincing as i may have been, i am just jake. cute, friendly, smaller than life.’

or maybe he’s not following me, maybe he just likes the coffee. maybe he just loves some rwanda blend. and maybe he just wants to be normal and enjoy a great cup of coffee and overpriced eggs. maybe after something like this (prince of persia) happens to you and they alter your body and hair and image into such an exaggerated, ludicrous image of yourself and spend gazillians of dollars on posters and tv, trying to convince the world that this is the new you - you want to take control back. and so you saunter into the chic coffee place on silverlake blvd and smile at people like me.

but then again, the rwanda blend is pretty fantastic. so is the guatemalan. there is no turkish coffee or persian blend or hummus here, so this was clearly not a publicity stunt. it’s strictly a humanity stunt.

and really, i think he just found the coffee he likes.

but just to be sure, i’m shifting my coffee time today. and if he shows up again, at the same time and place as i do, and orders something other than the rwanda blend, i’m seriously going to wonder, maybe he really is stalking me.

can the heimlich maneuver save hollywood?

Sun, 18 Apr 2010 06:17:58 -0700

i love a black tie event. the best part of a hollywood black tie, is you never know who you might run into. i am always prepared to be surprised. but i can honestly say the last person i thought i would meet last saturday morning when i woke up, was dr. heimlich.

serious.

this was a malibu-ish black tie event extolling he virtues of plastic surgery and a plant based diet. under the guise of a charity called, the physicians committee for ethical medicine. hmmm. what in the world is that? clearly, none of this had anything to do with me. i was content to be a bystander, a voyeur at best. so, like an alien just stepping off my craft, here is what i saw:

the hostess talking about her mission to stop the mutilation of animals in medical testing. i couldn’t help staring at her face - or what was left of it - as she spit the words ‘mutilated’ into the microphone, waving her fist high in the air, a once beautiful face, now unrecognizable, ‘mutilated’ by lifts, tucks and god knows what chemicals shot into her flesh. as she went on an on about poor helpless animals being cut for medical sakes, she was not only missing the whole point. she was missing her nose. it was nothing more or less than damned poignant. for what greater good had she allowed herself to be mutilated like that?

then she started in on meat. how awful it is for your health. as if the crispy brown skin that she and her peers were wearing over their protruding bones was not bad enough. her skin needed to be taken out of the oven. she was done. and by the way, she could use a little meat on her bones.

i stared into her motionless eyes and lips and i wondered if it was possible that somewhere else in another place, a group of mutilated animals, with missing legs and limbs, deformed paws or snouts, a cadre of blinded bunnies with their fur falling out, were gathered, raising money to stop helpless women from trying to recapture youth by having their face sacrificed for the sake of vanity - maybe they were also chit chatting about the horrors of a plant based diet, as they chawed down on fresh meaty roadkill.

don’t get me wrong, this event was a good hearted one. it was to benefit the physician’s committee for ethical medicine and headed by a mr. neil barnard who has revolutionized the medical industry with his ethics and not for profit work to remove animal testing from medical schools and the military, not to mention the research conducted to preventative medicine, using a plant based diet.

it’s good. but something else was happening here on stage. my friend, whose guest i was, is a walking bundle of love and acceptance. she just simply smiled and said, ‘we are all at different stages of accepting ourselves and taking care of the body that we were brought here in.’ wait, what did that mean? i think she meant no more surgery and go easy on the meat.

which brings me back to heimlich.

he’s old and perverted. like 90. and he looks like a character from a ben stiller, robert deniro movie (who would play him nicely in a made for tv hbo movie). he was here to talk about his new mission - to prevent dogs from being used to test his new invention. some woman introduced him by announcing that recently he saved 32 dogs from the test. the ballroom went wild with appreciation. it seems, this was the latest heimlich maneuver - withhold medical advancement to save the dogs. i wanted to say, the guy has saved millions from chocking on meat! this guy is an icon. 32 dogs? it’s nice but really?

somehow he fit right in. he looks the part, I’ve seen clint eastwood close up in old age, and i’ll tell you the way they walk, talk and cruise the young women, it’s all very uncanny, how similar an infamous dr. and director could be - at the end of their lives, at $1500 plate dinners.

let’s face it, good old heimlich is no stranger to fame. he’s like a director, or producer who insists on having his name above the title. I mean, THE HEIMLICH MANEUVER. Now that is good branding. And now there’s even a scandal involved, it seems that his business partner and his own son - claim that he’s a fraud and the maneuver is someone else’s idea. that’s so tabloid.

his presence here though shone a light on something else though. he is famous for a maneuver to get rid of all the shit that’s blocking someone’s breathing. so i got to wondering, what is it that is blocking all of us from really breathing. the ballroom was filled with tables and auction items like cruises, signed autograph guitars of rock stars, makeovers, makeups, diamonds, jewels. all this material accumulation that keeps us from living, really living, we are suffocating, chocking on our excess. dr. heimlich, could you please invent a technique to free us from all this?

that wasn’t a conversation for tonight. there were things to celebrate. important things.

the big award for the evening went to ellen degeneres and her wife (does anyone else still think that sounds weird) portia. they go the award for ‘having an all vegan wedding’. i’m serious. it’s interesting that a few years ago, it would have been both shocking to some and worth awarding an honor that the two women -one very feminine and one very butch and getting more so by the day, by the episode - just for getting married. but no, here in hollywood, lesbian marriage is no longer a big deal, but having the wedding CATERED by VEGAN’S. Now, that’s worth honoring.

Maybe I’m over-thinking. It was a reason to make money for a really good cause. Dr. Bernard has been writing and researching and lobbying for 25 years to improve people’s lives, and especially the animals who can’t help themselves. Looking around, it was clear as Cristal, the one’s that really need the help are us. we are the one’s who can’t seem to help ourselves. dressed in black tie, eating truffle flavored tofu, giving glass statues to people who couldn’t care less about all this. ‘one doctor from houston, genuinely embarrassed by all the fuss and excess said, ‘my wife and kids couldn't’ be here’. couldn’t or wouldn’t.

which raises the question, why was i there. i love meat. i hate plastic surgery. i’m oblivious to medicine. i hate politics. and then i looked at the brochure that was sitting on the table. and the logo that was flashed in lights on the back of the stage. shit, i almost missed it all. the title of the event:

the art of compassion.

it made me chuckle. so that was it. it wasn’t just about supporting my friend, getting all gussied up and eating designer food. it wasn’t just to dance with cloris leachman - or sample the ellen and portia commemorative vegan dessert buffet.

it was this: of all of it, the things i loved or hated, what i judged or was afraid of or made fun of or found baffling - were all there for one reason. and one reason only. to teach compassion. what an opportunity. to learn compassion. that’s why i was there.