LADDERS

Making it ... in show biz, in dance, in theater, is ... it's pulling yourself up on a rope.

NO. It's tougher. It's making the rope -- tying Mom's sheets together, throwing the sheet rope out the window, hoping the cloth will hold ...

NO. It's harder, trickier, more dangerous. Making it is climbing a ladder. The ladder is there. Other guys climbed it and made it. Wonderful men in history, as well as men with their faces on coins, and those ancient men with their outlines chiseled into cave walls ...

You can find the ladders. You can get there. But you have to make your own rungs -- climb, put your weight on the bottom rung, hold onto the side posts, and pull yourself up to the next rung.

Today, over and over we're hearing what Michael J. did. And Farrah F. This post was written a week ago, about us, not super-stars.

JC has done it. His name is in books. When he's gone a younger generation will remember him. And when they're gone, his name will be in their books that will be looked at by the even younger, un-born coming generation.

But he isn't a film star.

The film stars we grew up with don't die. Movies -- wow --once you are chosen, hired to make one, you're on a rung that is definitely off the ground, that enables you to reach for the next one, pull yourself up and step up on it, and reach for the next.

(The next and the next ... that's like the guy who wrote the book about me ("Encore"), writing "and then she did this.. and then she did that." . The thing that's never explained on the book, the thing to write about is the hell of transitioning. Methinks all this ladder stuff is because I'm worried about JC and JD, my two guys, in transition ...

JC's at the top of the ladder. But now that the show he's in, "August: Osage County" is closing next week, what's the next step, where's the next rung?

Job ending makes most actors wonder, "Am I ever going to work again?" (And feel like a guy on the ground taking his first step.)

JC has to figure out what to do with his time, his schedule, his daily routine and then... there'll be an offer, a rung. And JD, on a middle rung that was crazy, blood, sweat and tears difficult to get to, is on the same path as his Dad.

Me, wife and Mom, safe in front of the computer where I'm the boss, with my fingers and brain having plenty to do, can only say don't worry guys. It's the biz. You've been here before. You're working actors and the next step, and the next is moving each of us, each in his own way.

MICHAEL JACKSON

M J -- age 50. No more birthdays ...

That sliding gliding backward step of his took him off our world yesterday ...

His music, and performer self ... extraordinary, influential, magically affecting ...

It filtered in and around all of us, entertained, made us dance, dance and sing and be a part of his changing scene, his changing styles and the changing scenes and styles he inspired in the music world.

His personal private self -- his skin, his surgery, his playmates -- unexpected and shocking, hard to believe and understand, but somehow truthful unto him if not to us, so we the fans accepted what he did -- couldn't help peering and peeking and wondering, but sliding, gliding backed away ...

Respectfully ...? Yes. It didn't fit with what we thought was right behavior, but his commitment to what he chose to do, made it right for him. And that we accepted.

Michael Jackson always seemed to me to have much in common with his friend Elizabeth Taylor -- both of them un-brought-up children who grew into major influential adult artists.

I practiced, more than once, the sliding gliding backward step of his -- the camels step, his Moonwalk -- how many children, teenagers, adults, grandparents have tried to step-glide-slide backward like that. And who but MJ could create a song and an image and a feeling that became "We Are the World."

SLEEP RAVELS

I mark some phases of my life by how I didn't sleep.

Before tests in grade school, my brain kept re-winding the facts that I'd memorized, facts I needed if I was going to get A or A+.

Before I asked my father for permission to go to NYC for the summer (he told me to present all the pros and cons), I went over and over the reasons why an eleven-year-old needed to studying dance in New York City before she was twelve. I presented facts on age, muscles, and youthful flexibility. I included facts proving to Daddy that I was mature enough to live in a rooming house.

Later, when I was seventeen and on my own, living temporarily in a rented room on 12th street -- the noises, lights flashing in the window kept unraveling the neatly knitted sleeve of my plans. I definitely developed insomnia.

Liquor? It made me sleepy (still does). Waking in the morning with a headache is not good for taking dance classes, n0t good for the morning things on my current agenda.

Pills ... When a doctor prescribes them for a month (sometimes the pill works, sometimes it doesn't). But without the pill I'm worse off than I was, before I started taking them. And convincing a doctor to renew the prescription (sometimes he will, sometimes he won't), selling a doc on the idea makes me feel like I did, selling Daddy the pros and cons of NYC.

Also some pills (Ambien for instance), work in reverse. Instead of falling asleep, I fall awake! Get wider and wider awake! The ravelings of one problem become ravels of another and soon everything knit, neatly arranged in my mind, is a mess and I'm pacing -- slurping soup, chomping crackers, looking for a fun snack in the middle of the night.

Reality: I have not been a good sleeper for a long time. If I take Benadryl, Tylenol, plus some milligrams of Amitriptyline, I may get 5 hours. (I need 5, not the 8 that most people need.) "Ami" is an old fashioned, mild anti-depressant the Malibu doc prescribed, but the three-pill-combo makes me groggy in the morning.

SECRET METHOD. I mention this last, because it might not help anyone but me. I lay in bed with my eyes closed, concentrating on a section of my daily performance dance (the Vaughn Williams I've mentioned in various posts). I do the steps in my mind. If I get through it once, I rehearse it again, forcing my mind to stay on the sequence, and that does the trick.

Dr. Em alternate: THE CHIMPANZEE CURE. I count ten chimpanzees (seconds), feeling my toes, ten for the arch, ten for the instep, then the ankle -- oops -- if my mind wanders, I start again -- toes, arch, instep, ankle, shin, etc. If I take a chimpanzee trip up my torso, RARELY do I stay awake beyond the knee.

File the Chimpanzee Cure away --give it a try -- it might work for YOU.

LAPPING UP COMPLIMENTS

I can't draw a picture, or find a picture online that illustrates this penchant, this rather typical, delicate social skill of mine.

Maybe you'll know right away what I mean -- it takes one to know one!

(When you read the sentences below this one, try acting them, reading them out loud to yourself.)
You meet a dear friend and say, "Oh, how bright-eyed you look today!" Or "Mmm, I like that tie!" This sentence -- "I like your hairdo" with appropriate refinements, always works for boys, girls, men or women.

I have a large repertoire -- "What you said (in an e-mail, phone call, or last time you saw the person) keeps echoing!"

Sure-fire: "You think so clearly!"

Employees, maid, contractor, janitor -- "You did that job well." Use warily -- "Wish we could pay you more," or, "You're worth more." (What you'll get is the compliment of loyalty -- you'll have a worker-helper-person who's delighted to work for you.)
Beware of -- "What a great cook you are." or "The way you decorated this room is wonderful."

A good fall-back remark -- "I can't believe you did that all by yourself."

Put all those sentences on a serving plate, and there's room for hundreds more. Like spaghetti, you can sip the strings of compliment words in, chew, swallow digest and feel gratified, satisfied.

Wait a minute ... (you may be thinking as you're reading the acting script). What is this Em lesson about?

I need compliments. If I don't get them, quite often I wiggle around the conversation till something complimentary emerges from the pile of sentences that the conversation accumulates. I give compliments. Carefully. NOT using the super superlatives, for instance saying -- I love... It's fabulous. That's incredible -- you're fantastic, that's amazing, it's astounding ...

When you, the complimentor say less, it means more . And the complimentee (the guy you're complimenting) has room to respond --ping-pong it back to you, same pace, or faster, harder, even smashing it, and you'll smash it back!

Lapping up compliments is good for the digestion, good for the complexion ... It's good, just plain good for me, and believe me. I'm definitely not a kittycat.

CHANGE THE CHANNEL FAST

Who do we root for? What fills our minds?

Iranians who have to obey, shut up, stay home, make no waves, or go out and protest and maybe die?

While waiting to see what our President wants us to do, my fists clench, I'm frustrated. Pent up, yes, but shrugging. Hitting the off switch on the TV and heading for the work on my desk.

I can do that, even though I'm in a dither, silently shouting no no -- there can't be another war -- drowning out there could be! Pakistan ... North Korea ... the verbal warring over health care ... the latest flurry of suicide bombers in Bagdad ... How can I do my life and carry all that with me?

I've never ever been an Entertainment Tonight, or Access Hollywood watcher. Discovery Channel's autopsy show, Dr. G, Medical Examiner with Dr. G's clear, energetic determination to solve why and how a person died -- is definitely diverting. And the Trauma, Life in the ER show with those life and death emergencies -- it's almost comforting, between the hammer of the Hardball Matthews, Keith Oberman, Rachael Maddow gang.

But the weight of NOW -- the citizens of Teheran being forced to shut up about the stolen election, calm down, and go back to living their lives -- it turns me into a blob, shapelessly unfocused on anything, except finishing a small personal job. Like writing this -- spelling the names right -- keeping away from the unpronounceable ones that I can pronounce for a minute, but not retain.

So when Fran, my blog coach, dear friend whom I trust, sent me a link to the latest on Jon & Kate, I clicked. Murmuring Kate and Jon, Jon and Kate, I do my skim reading of the words, hundreds of words, massive attention they're getting.

Susan Boyle was worth paying attention to -- she means, she meant, and she still shows me the power of talent, guts, and taking a chance. But Jon and Kate, Kate and Jon seem like cardboard cut-outs, copied, reproduced to the nth power. Like printing presses and Kinko's copiers can do, and television screens do. How many televisions in the world are right now conveying the latest on Kate and Jon, Jon and Kate and their ... what ...?

I can't, I won't, I refuse to pay attention to the manufactured importance of any of their problems.

FORTUNE STRING

YOU ARE HEADING IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION
We used to take JD and the toy bear he called "Concrete Hands," to eat at the restaurant on the corner. JD loved mushrooms, and called them "Manies."

BEAUTIFUL THINGS AWAIT YOU

SPECULATIONS WILL TURN OUT WELL
I never paid attention to the boring fortunes, just put the errant cookie in front of JC.

YOU WILL HAVE GOOD LUCK IN PERSONAL AFFAIRS
Oh boy, did I ever want to believe that. Some girl kept calling. I couldn't stop thinking jealous wife thoughts.

YOUR LABORS WILL BEAR SWEET FRUIT
Booking Dance Drama Company tours, my three automatic typewriters paused for me to type in a personal something or other -- 3000 letters, three times a year. Every "nibble" from a possible sponsor was a thumb-tack on the map of the US that JC tacked up in the kitchen.

LADY LUCK WILL SOON VISIT YOU
JC sang "Luck be a Lady" and I choreographed it for him, and it worked -- he got the jobs.

A SUDDEN CHANGE IN PLANS WILL LEAD TO GOOD FORTUNE

WHEN WINTER COMES HEAVEN WILL RAIN SUCCESS ON YOU I hope so.

YOU WILL BE SUCCESSFUL THROUGH DETERMINATION AND INNOVATION I hope so.

YOU WILL BE AWARDED SOME GREAT HONOR
When? I kept asking myself, as applied for Ford, Guggenheim, NEA grants.

FROM A PAST MISFORTUNE, GOOD LUCK WILL COME TO YOU
Interesting idea ... I wondered who made the fortunes for the cookies that came from the corner. Other places had better food, but cookies with ho-hum boring sayings by "Confucius."

YOUR HOME IS A PLEASANT PLACE FROM WHICH YOU DRAW HAPPINESS
It was, and we (with me as the decorator), were having fun wall-papering our crumbling walls with brilliant colored cloth.

YOU ARE ENTERPRISING, TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT

SOON YOU WILL BE GETTING THE RECOGNITION YOU DESERVE
Oh yes, please yes, make it soon!

THE PROJECT YOU HAVE IN MIND WILL SOON GAIN MOMENTUM
When that popped out of a cookie, I remember we were raising money for our "KINGS" on Broadway

YOU HAVE THE ATTITUDE OF A WINNER
True.

YOUR GENUINE TALENT WILL LEAD YOU TO SUCCESS
Maybe, maybe not.

BE INNOVATIVE AND TAKE CHARGE
I do.

FORTUNE SMILES UPON YOU AT THIS TIME

ALL YOUR HARD WORK WILL SOON PAY OFF

STEP BY STEP YOU WILL ASCEND THE STAIRCASE TO SUCCESS
When we got back from living in Malibu, the restaurant was gone. Others in the area have occasionally marvelous food, but uninspiring cookies. Even so, my string hanging here, continues to delight me and give me ... shh ... a ping of hope.

Those crunchy cookies -- "love 'em, eat them, or leave them." Click the icon below the list of labels. and I'll e-mail you a copy of the words, the super good luck fortunes on my string.

GOOD LUCK STUFF

I don't believe in "Luck" -- I believe in work but ...

For years I collected Fortune Cookie fortunes and taped them to a long red cord. Only the good ones. If JC got a super great one, I took it and pasted it on my string. My fortune cookie fortunes are hanging on the door to my office.

My red apple on a gold string hangs just below the light I keep on for Mother. (I wrote about this s in "Night Light," April 13th.)

High up on the window, there's a poster from "People in Show Biz Make Long Goodbyes," written by me as H. Jean Schaeffer. (One of these days I'll explain about H. Jean, Harold and Harried -- the Schaeffer family.)

On the shelf above my monitor, there's a hand painted cup in the style of Rouault -- brought it in Spoleto where I danced my very best despite Baryshnikov and Fracci watching in the wings.

Next to it -- a doll from India that does a belly dance if you blow on her. H, a dear pal of JC's who propositioned me, bought it for me, along with a 4 oz. flagon of $90 an ounce Joy perfume.

On the shelf above that -- 3 tall wooden flowers. JD bought them for me for good luck when I left Malibu, moaning about missing the flowers.

Under my calendar a demonic wooden Chinese Lord who's staring angrily at my Fortune Cookies -- he's a gift from my stage crew in Hong Kong who taught me to say "Go Cue. Take a break. Thank you," in Chinese.

I don't pay much attention to any of my good luck trinkets ... never had a rabbit's foot or knocked on wood ...

But I always wear my purple T shirt, no matter what the weather -- on the first day of a new project. And though I haven't added any new fortune cookie fortunes to my string, it hangs there. Maybe one of these days I'll type out the fortunes ...