“Mom, I need your help,” said my twenty-six year old son, Michael.
Usually, when a mother hears that request she assumes her child needs the car, money, or a shoulder to cry on. But, no. In this case, Michael needed me to play the part of a nurse in the movie he was filming in Fire Island. He had gathered the cast, including Joe Bologna, Renee’ Taylor, Tom Bosley and Connie Stevens and set up shop in our house in Seaview. He asked me to push Joe Bologna in a wheelchair. It was just one short scene, but I was thrilled. I never thought of myself as a Renaissance woman, but there I was!
I arrived on the ferry the afternoon before my big day. No matter how many times I take the ferry, the beauty of Fire Island always touches something in my soul. The sense of calm begins on the ferry and carries through the week-end. But that time it was different. I was greeted with lights, cameras, megaphones, walkie-talkies, a crew of about thirty-five and Mr. Cunningham himself sitting in my living room. Talk about surreal – I was in a daze. So, I just followed my instincts and began cleaning the house and cooking dinner.
“No, Mom. You don’t have to do that. We have a caterer and we’ll have the house cleaned. All you have to do is have fun.”
Needless to day, I didn’t feel comfortable just sitting around and having fun. But, I forced myself.
The morning of the shoot I had to be ready for make-up at 8 AM. I instructed the make-up artist to make me look twenty pounds thinner and beautiful. She told me she was a cosmetician, not a magician. (Just kidding – she was actually a good sport!) Wearing a crisp white nurse’s cap on my head, I was off to the ferry dock to begin filming my scene. All I had to do was push Joe Bologna’s wheelchair and, as Michael instructed, try not to smile. Well, neither of those jobs was easy. First of all, I couldn’t stop smiling. There was my son directing a movie he had written and produced. And he was doing a good job! I really tried hard not to smile. Michael told me to think unhappy thoughts. How could I possibly do that when I was bursting with pride? Then, the wheelchair kept getting stuck. So, I asked somebody to go to the firehouse and see if they had another one.
“Mom, we don’t have time for that,” said my son, the director.
“Michael, it will take only five minutes and will save you time in the long run because we won’t have to do so many ‘takes’ (notice how easily I picked up the lingo).
“Michael, Moms have a way of wanting to move mountains for their children,” said Joe Bologna. “You should be grateful to her.”
So we waited for the replacement wheelchair. When the chair finally arrived, Michael noticed that it had plastic spokes. Apparently they didn’t have plastic spokes in the fifties. Michael refused to use it.
“But, Michael, nobody will know the difference.”
“Mom…”
“But, Michael…”
“Mom…”
As quickly as I could speak, I said, “Michael, you’re wrong about this. It’s a black and white picture, nobody will notice.”
“I’ll notice. I’m not compromising.”
One of the crew tried to save the day. He came up with the idea of switching the wheels. So what if it took twenty minutes to figure out the wheels were different sizes and it wouldn’t work – at least he tried to be helpful.
“Michael, I still think you should use the wheelchair that moves rather than the one that gets stuck. In the long run you’ll be better off.”
“Mom,” Michael said, trying to be calm, “please remember that I’m the director.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I promise I’ll behave.”
As I walked away, I reminded him to tie his shoelace so he wouldn’t trip.