Once Upon a Time: On Life/Art

The chrome escalator wound up three floors. On the third floor, Tinseltown-inspired red carpet flowed forward, toward the hallway of smaller theaters. Life-size posters of the latest blockbusters and box-office bombs lined the walls: “Toy Story 4,” “The Peanut Butter Falcon,” “Men in Black International.”

Stanton and I had come to see “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood,” Quentin Tarantino’s newest film. The last time we had seen a movie in a movie theater together was—shake your head if you must, friends—more than four years ago. Little kids, work, Saturday-morning soccer games, visits with family and friends…all good things, but movie-theater date night had tumbled toward the bottom of our list of priorities, right there with meticulous personal grooming. 😉

I shared all this with the bespectacled young woman at the ticket counter. “The next time we’re here, it will probably be four years later,” I added. She smiled politely, and slid our two admission tickets across the counter.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” Stanton said, as we walked away hand in hand. The pervasive, ultra-buttery scent of movie-theater popcorn seemed to fall into step with us.

“I can’t help telling stories to strangers,” I agreed. Then I gasped. “Maybe a title for a blog post?”

“Mel, no.” Stanton gestured around—just a regular day in our life. “This is not a blog post.”

Instantly, we looked at each other, eyes wide. Stanton smiled, sighed. “OK, that’s a good title.”

And it was, until Grace and Anna told me they liked “Once Upon a Time: On Life/Art” better.

“I can’t help telling stories to strangers…”

I try to update this, my website, with new writing (in the form of blog posts) at least twice a month. I’m always working on longer pieces behind the scenes…er, screen. These pieces take more time, though: fiction such as short stories, nonfiction like corporate press releases. I want to keep my site as fresh as possible, which Stanton knows. Thus, he knows that I often “think in blog posts.” What a cool quote, cool launching pad for my next post.

I don’t want to exploit my life for my art. It’s a common dilemma among writers, musicians and artists of all kinds. Personal experiences spark creative turns in our professional work. An aha moment hits us, and we try to create something from it without debauching the beauty of our real world.

Of course, truth is stranger than fiction. No doubt. The conscientious writers among us, however, recognize that some stories aren’t ours to tell, no matter how much we camouflage the identifying details of our characters. (We also balk at starting family feuds, or being banished from friends’ speed dials.)

Sometimes, I wonder how many bestselling plots and million-dollar lyrics never saw the light of day (or pages of The New York Times Book Review or Billboard Hot 100).

There’s art, and there’s life.

Then there’s “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.”

I’m not a film critic, so I won’t share an amateur-hour movie review here. All I’ll say is wow. Talk about conflating life and art—this quasi-historical, pop-culture fairy tale centers on Sharon Tate and the Manson Family murders, with a twist…actually, several twists. Totally engaging plot, complicated yet relatable characters, and white-hot, feels-like-L.A. lighting.

And oh, yes…Brad Pitt. Wow again. Wow for both churning out a super-cool yet charming performance and—sigh—still looking mighty fine at age 55.

For our first Valentine’s Day together, back in college, Stanton gave me a “Fight Club” poster featuring Mr. Pitt in all his shirtless, prime-of-life glory—pretty super-cool and charming of Mr. Leddy himself, I’d thought. My college boyfriend turned standing Friday-night date knew I was a fan of the two-time Sexiest Man Alive, as well as “Fight Club.” (I’m not a rom-com girl, which often surprises people. Give me David Fincher, QT, Martin Scorsese and Paul Thomas Anderson any day…although, like everyone else, I do enjoy Nancy Meyers features for the interior design inspirations.)

Coincidentally, this past weekend I stumbled upon an old photo album from college. And there, in the album, was a picture of my very first, freshman-year dorm room. And there, in that picture, was the “Fight Club” poster on the wall.

That was 17 years ago, and it felt like yesterday.

Seventeen years. How did that happen?

And there, in that picture, was the “Fight Club” poster on the wall.

I believe very strongly in living in the present, making the most of the here and now. From time to time, though, I can be sentimental. I can have a moment of nostalgia.

I had a moment then, friends.

I flipped through a few more pictures. Smiled at the late-teen/early-20s faces of some wonderful college friends, who grew up to become wonderful life friends.

There was another picture, of myself with a good friend who passed away much too soon. He had his arm around me, and we were both laughing, the carefree moment freeze-framed forever.

This person actually introduced Stanton to me, and meant a lot to us both individually and as a couple.

I held the picture out to Stanton. He looked, and gave me a little smile. Half happy (for the memory) and half sad (because we’d never again have more than that).

“We were all so young and happy,” I said.

“Yes.”

He had his arm around me, and we were both laughing, the carefree moment freeze-framed forever.

The girls and I were at our town library three days in a row this week. It just kind of happened; there was no grand plan. One day, we returned an overdue DVD; another, we stopped by after playing at a nearby park (and stumbled upon an outdoor concert on the green, complete with complimentary popcorn and temporary tattoos for the kids).

The girls marveled at our good luck. We are lucky, I agreed. And not just for the tattoos and popcorn and music.

The guitarist was strumming the chords to “Edelweiss,” from the classic motion picture “The Sound of Music,” and singing along, the lyrics coasting across the library green: “Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow, bloom and grow forever…”

I said hello to a librarian I know, and mentioned that we often ended up at the library.

“It’s not a bad place to be,” she replied with a smile.

I smiled back. “Totally agree.” (I knew I’d put it in a blog post.)

Where do we end up? What are we doing? How does it all happen?

These can be hard questions, but at least one answer is easy: It all happens fast.

We are lucky, I agreed. And not just for the tattoos and popcorn and music.

The girls go back to school after Labor Day. “Summer went fast,” Grace noted. “I remember the first day of summer vacation.”

Tell me about it, girl. I mean…I remember college. I remember my “Fight Club” poster; I remember 17 years ago.

Once upon a time, we were all so young and happy.

I’ve had some dark days, but overall, I am happy. And incredibly grateful. Not as young as I used to be, though.

I wrote much of this post freehand, old-school in a notebook with a pen, at a park this week, while the girls were playing. It was a picture-perfect summer day, and I did snap some memories. As I did, a quote crossed my mind, and it beautifully sums up the message I’d like to share today:

“One day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it’s worth watching.” (Gerard Way)

❤

Photo credit: Pixabay

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Like what you just read? Then check out Melissa Leddy’s newest short story, “Backtrack.” An engaging read that’s can’t-put-it-down good.

Favorite Family Movies (or, Why We Just Watched Fletch for the 20th Time)

The week of Christmas, my parents’ house. Both girls had fallen asleep. Stanton and I sat with my two brothers and sister in the family room. The conversation topic at hand: what movie to watch.

We scrolled through the options on Netflix. I had read good things about “Bird Box,” and “Carol.” Jenna and I, halfheartedly, suggested “Love Actually” (predictably, Stanton, Josh and Jared groaned their dissent). None of these options, however, was ever a serious contender. We all knew—all five of us—that we would, in the end, settle on something we’d seen many times before.

That night, we watched “Fletch,” the ’80s cult classic starring Chevy Chase as investigative journalist Irwin M. Fletcher (and multiple aliases).

Chevy Chase once said Fletch was his favorite role. Personally, I prefer him as Clark Griswold. “Christmas Vacation” is another favorite in my family’s (admittedly short) list of beloved motion pictures. Sometimes, my dad and I even have text conversations consisting entirely of “Christmas Vacation” quotes. (“If I woke up tomorrow with my head sewn to the carpet, I wouldn’t be more surprised than I am now.”)

I loved watching “Fletch” once again too, though. I enjoyed seeing Tim Matheson as Alan Stanwyck, before he was John Hoynes. His back-and-forth with Fletch still made me laugh. (“Do you own rubber gloves?” “I rent. I have a lease, with an option to buy.”) And still, I’m not entirely clear on the LAPD/drug trafficking story line, but that doesn’t impede my enjoyment of the film. It doesn’t matter, to me.

Why? Because “Fletch” is familiar—comfort food, in a way. And I would never think to watch it on my own, without my family. It wouldn’t be as fun: no one to quote punch lines with, no one to laugh with. No shared history, or memories, or paper plates of Doritos (a guilty pleasure, a few times a year).

Favorite family movies. We all have them. (What are yours?)

While we were all together (in addition to rewatching “Fletch”), Stanton, my siblings and I took part in a local pizza place’s Trivia Night. Our team name? I Don’t Know, Margo, in reference to a “Christmas Vacation” quote (and Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s character, pre-“Seinfeld”). Of course our team name referenced a favorite family movie quote.

Trivia Night together was a lot of fun. Mostly because we had my brother Josh on our team, I Don’t Know, Margo, won. As we walked to our car afterward, Jenna led us in singing, “We Are the Champions.”

Yes, we were that family. 😉

That family, friends, similar to so many others. All with their share of joys, disappointments and inside jokes. And still coming together again, holiday after holiday, year after year, despite any distances or differences.

After our own Christmas vacation, Stanton, the girls and I got ready to head home. We all hugged one another goodbye. My sister told Anna, “I’ll miss you so much!”

Anna, 3 years old, smiled, shouted, “I’ll be back!” and ran out the front door. Anna makes me smile all the time, and I smiled then too.

“I’ll be back!”—this sentiment sums up why we watch the same old movies again and again. They take us back. Back in time, to a younger, more innocent, less complicated time. When everyone with whom we started out shared the same family room, the same TV.

Favorite family movies bring us forward and keep us together too. We look forward to the special-occasion and everyday reunions that encourage gathering, reminiscing…and cherished-movie rewatching (critics’ reviews, Rotten Tomatoes ratings and actors’ real lives notwithstanding).

“I’ll be back!”—this sentiment sums up why we watch the same old movies again and again. They take us back.

For all our movie watching (and rewatching), Stanton, the girls and I never actually watched a movie together, as a family of four. Kind of crazy, right? When the girls are watching TV, though, we try to get other things done.

We decided to have a super lazy, super cozy New Year’s Eve at home, doing something we’d never done: finally watch a movie together. I made French bread pizza beforehand, and Stanton built a fire in the fireplace. The four of us got comfy on the couch and watched “Beauty and the Beast” (the animated version). The girls had never seen it before and loved it, and Stanton and I enjoyed seeing it again. It was a really simple, really sweet time together, and maybe the start of our own tradition.

Later, after we tucked the girls into bed, Stanton and I tuned in to some of the Times Square Ball Drop news. The New Year’s Eve countdown was on, and winding down. In that moment, I felt an incredible sense of gratitude for my family.

For Stanton, there with me, and our daughters, upstairs. Both our sets of parents and grandmas, our siblings and their families, and our friends who are like family. We’re so lucky for all this love in our life.

When I think about life, and what it is and what it means, the first thing I think is beautiful. And the second thing is fragile.

I try to take care, then, with life and the people in it. I’ve made lots of mistakes, could always be a better person. I do try, though, to seek good, to give love.

Love is the little things. Watching (or rewatching) a movie with family. Speaking kindly to grocery-store cashiers, rather than checking our phones. Basically, being there for people…those we know and those we don’t. Being present.

Why not be present this New Year? Even if we already know all the punch lines.

“Those are three names I enjoy: Marvin, Velma and Provo.”

Photo credit: Pixabay

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Like what you just read? Then check out Melissa Leddy’s newest short story, “Backtrack.” An engaging read that’s can’t-put-it-down good.

Book Review: The Princess Problem by Rebecca C. Hains

For Halloween this past weekend, my daughters (ages: 4 years old and 9 months) dressed up as Elsa and Anna, the princess sisters from “Frozen.” Grace, my 4-year-old, has watched the Disney blockbuster enough times that she has the screenplay nearly memorized. She was delighted to trick-or-treat as Elsa, with her younger sister tagging along in an Anna-themed romper.

My girls’ Halloween costumes coincided with my reading the book “The Princess Problem: Guiding Our Girls through the Princess-Obsessed Years” by Rebecca C. Hains. Published in 2014, this book has two purposes: (1) to reveal the billion-dollar (mm-hmm, billion-dollar) business behind princess marketing, and (2) to encourage families to think about how this business can influence girls.

I found “The Princess Problem” to be a thought-provoking read, and a fun one, too. For example, Hains begins the book by telling the story of how she worked as a “princess performer” for field research. She dressed up as Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and other storybook characters to add real-life color to girls’ princess-themed birthday parties and then observed their reactions to her persona.

Princess performer: What a cool moonlighting gig!

Meanwhile, Hains’ professional background as a media studies college professor grounds “The Princess Problem” in an informed yet reflective tone about pop culture, marketing and childhood development.

I appreciated Hains’ observation early in the book that “there’s nothing inherently wrong with princesses, pink and purple, sparkles, or frills…But there is something wrong when that’s the main type of girlhood marketed to girls” (page 5). This note allows Hains to take an objective approach to “The Princess Problem” and focus on the actual problem: not princesses themselves, but consumerism surrounding the princesses’ media brands.

And along with that consumerism, concerns such as an unrealistic beauty ideal and a narrative that emphasizes to girls that a Prince Charming will save the day for them, thus downplaying their own abilities.

Some facts from the book: “While Disney Princess films have earned more than $2.6 billion at the box office worldwide, the Disney Princess brand boasts more than $4 billion in global retail sales” (page 68). (Wow!) Hains continues, “In the United States, Disney Princess is actually the number-one licensed toy brand among all girls, and it’s also the number-one toy brand for dolls and role play among two- to five-year-old girls.”

As a mom, I can offer anecdotal support of these data. Not only did Grace transform into Princess Elsa for Halloween, but she also celebrated her fourth birthday with a Princess Sofia party. “Sofia the First,” of course—surely you’ve seen this Disney Channel show, friends? 🙂 The Disney Princess brand truly is everywhere, and I didn’t realize this and what it might mean for my daughters until I read “The Princess Problem.”

Helpfully, Hains discusses the implications of this ubiquitous princess marketing. One is that unrealistic, unhealthy beauty ideal. (The Disney Princesses are predominantly white, and universally thin.) And a possible solution: participation in sports. “Sports participation is widely recognized as a terrific way for girls to develop healthy body images and self-esteem—and therefore a great antidote to the problem of our culture’s beauty ideal” (page 152).

Another implication of princess marketing is the obvious underlying motive: consumerism. Consequently, Hains writes about setting parameters for princess buys (page 97). I have to give myself a pat on the back here: Although I special-ordered “Pin the Pendant on Sofia” for Grace’s party, I resisted the urge to buy the corresponding Sofia the First piñata kit.

I appreciated the background that Hains provides regarding princesses and storytelling. For example, she writes, “The media have usually cast girls in one of two narrative clichés: princesses in peril or token females…For this reason, Disney’s ‘Frozen’ is refreshing. It’s a tale of two sisters who are princesses, both of whom are fleshed-out characters, and who ultimately do not need a man to rescue them” (page 161). Passages like these help readers grasp the historical context of the many princesses we’ve come to know over the years, including the recent (and wildly popular) “Frozen” ones.

“Frozen” debuted in 2013, and Hains discusses it throughout her book, mostly in a positive light. Elsa and Anna rely on each other rather than a man to rescue them, as Hains points out. This plot point challenges “the Cinderella complex” (page 161) of older princess narratives, a complex that Hains calls “psychologically unhealthy and limiting.” She adds that “in the long term, it can be economically detrimental to women.”

Hains also points to “the sexualization of young girls” (page 114) in some of the older princess narratives, including a few that don’t seem that old at all. For example, “several Disney princess films—‘The Little Mermaid’ [1989], ‘Aladdin’ [1992], and ‘Pocahontas’ [1995]—feature buxom, curvaceous, scantily clad heroines alongside fully clothed men.” What messages, Hains wonders, do these opposing representations of girls and boys, women and men convey to the children who watch these marketed-to-families films?

A side note about marketing: Have you noticed that in the past few years, Disney has made an effort to include boys in their traditionally girl-focused films? Hains’ passage here was an “aha!” moment for me: “Disney has had to market its most recent films—‘Tangled,’ ‘Brave,’ and ‘Frozen’—in ways that downplay their ‘princessy’ natures. No more girls’ names like ‘Cinderella’ and ‘Sleeping Beauty’ in Disney’s movie titles. In the Princess brand era, such names cut out too much of the boy audience at the box office” (page 81). Clever marketing, right?

Hains ultimately cares that parents and their children articulate their families’ values, and then positively interact with pop culture, including princess culture, with these values in mind. To this end, she includes family-centered discussion topics in “The Princess Problem.” The end goal: To understand that all media are creations of other people (and, often, their marketing departments), and that each child has the power to create his or her own life story.

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Like what you just read? Then check out Melissa Leddy’s e-books, available on Amazon.com. Writing at its most heartfelt.