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A Christmas Story….
By Stephanie Kemp
A Christmas Story….
By Stephanie Kemp
It Is The Best Day Ever...
I woke up against my will at 4:30 with my husband to have coffee before he headed to the mountains to see about a broken furnace. (I didn’t say it was his best day ever.)
At 4:31 I learned that my friend had a healthy baby boy yesterday on her 39th birthday. He doesn’t have a name yet because they didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl. (They are progressive traditionalists!) This friend has always known what she is doing. She is the president of her company and has always been the president of life. She was older than me when I met her at 13 (I was 28) and I had to pretend I was in charge.
I still hope they name the baby Stephanie. I was promised it was at least under consideration. Her husband is just that kind of fantastic man. The kind that would let you think your very female name is under consideration for his very new firstborn son while he is busy taking care of the president as she delivers an actual human being on her own birthday.
(It’s also possible that my friend’s sister might have been lying about my name being under consideration…but still/no matter what, the husband is a fantastic man.)
This baby (my friend has a baby!) marks the 5th generation of one of the most important friendships of my life. Not always the easiest, but one of the best.
…kinds of friendship.
This friend’s dad was my boss. Not always the ideal mentor (“You would be a terrible line producer,” said the line producer to his assistant), but a life keeper and undeniable character enhancer. He is also very good at tennis.
We worked together for almost 15 years, on several terrible movies (plus a couple of good ones), and if it hadn’t been for him I wouldn’t have met my husband on one of the bad movies that was a sequel to one of the good ones. This is a helpful thought to conjure during the moments when I wonder why I gave so many years of my life to so many bad movies.
But back to the story!
My boss’s daughters were like little sisters during my 25 year film career, keeping me grounded in goodness and fun and mischief. I was able to stay sane and intact and protected within the shit show of the film business because I was always connected to a family that mattered more than everything else. A family who knew it was best to keep the family in Pennsylvania even though it would be hard to be apart. A family who remembered to have fun. A family who focused on quality time when quantity time wasn’t an option. I always knew that my boss was a genius, not because he chose to be a producer, but because of the woman that he chose to (ask to) be his wife.
And while I rarely took my producing assistant responsibilities overly seriously (separate essay/who would want to be a producer anyway?), I always took care of taking care of these little sisters.
I had to because I loved them and they loved me back (it was love at first sight during their set visit once when I was playing a waitress in the best movie, but not fully deal sealed until I took one for the team and almost died on a mean horse once while shooting the worst one). I did it because I could see their curiosity, their nervousness, their budding confidence, their wicked senses of humor that made me raise the bar on my own.
They also let me take a loan out on their wonder as mine was starting to fade.
(They still do this for me.)
And now they love my daughters,
who will love this baby boy.
The best part of it all is that this family is chosen - on purpose after coming together by accident. And it has kept choosing (and showing up) for five generations.
(FIVE GENERATIONS!)
(PLUS MY FRIEND HAS A SON!)
I did make (some) good choices…
On a final/selfish note, I am so happy that my daughters have these big sisters (and mentors - next generations usually improve upon the ones that preceded them) and now they also have a baby brother named Stephanie to love and help grow and show the(ir) world to.
Imagine all the things he (and they) will see and think and feel and know how to do.
Now I need more coffee …I want to make sure it remains the best day ever and can’t wait until it is late enough to call my friend who had a son.
On their birthday!
Merry Christmas, indeed…
ps. This reminds me of the day Steven Spielberg told me I would be a good mom once when we produced a movie together (my boss helped make this happen despite his misgivings about my producorial capabilities). I will write about that next. Maybe…
pps. The furnace is fixed! Best day for husband, too!
I woke up against my will at 4:30 with my husband to have coffee before he headed to the mountains to see about a broken furnace. (I didn’t say it was his best day ever.)
At 4:31 I learned that my friend had a healthy baby boy yesterday on her 39th birthday. He doesn’t have a name yet because they didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl. (They are progressive traditionalists!) This friend has always known what she is doing. She is the president of her company and has always been the president of life. She was older than me when I met her at 13 (I was 28) and I had to pretend I was in charge.
I still hope they name the baby Stephanie. I was promised it was at least under consideration. Her husband is just that kind of fantastic man. The kind that would let you think your very female name is under consideration for his very new firstborn son while he is busy taking care of the president as she delivers an actual human being on her own birthday.
(It’s also possible that my friend’s sister might have been lying about my name being under consideration…but still/no matter what, the husband is a fantastic man.)
This baby (my friend has a baby!) marks the 5th generation of one of the most important friendships of my life. Not always the easiest, but one of the best.
…kinds of friendship.
This friend’s dad was my boss. Not always the ideal mentor (“You would be a terrible line producer,” said the line producer to his assistant), but a life keeper and undeniable character enhancer. He is also very good at tennis.
We worked together for almost 15 years, on several terrible movies (plus a couple of good ones), and if it hadn’t been for him I wouldn’t have met my husband on one of the bad movies that was a sequel to one of the good ones. This is a helpful thought to conjure during the moments when I wonder why I gave so many years of my life to so many bad movies.
But back to the story!
My boss’s daughters were like little sisters during my 25 year film career, keeping me grounded in goodness and fun and mischief. I was able to stay sane and intact and protected within the shit show of the film business because I was always connected to a family that mattered more than everything else. A family who knew it was best to keep the family in Pennsylvania even though it would be hard to be apart. A family who remembered to have fun. A family who focused on quality time when quantity time wasn’t an option. I always knew that my boss was a genius, not because he chose to be a producer, but because of the woman that he chose to (ask to) be his wife.
And while I rarely took my producing assistant responsibilities overly seriously (separate essay/who would want to be a producer anyway?), I always took care of taking care of these little sisters.
I had to because I loved them and they loved me back (it was love at first sight during their set visit once when I was playing a waitress in the best movie, but not fully deal sealed until I took one for the team and almost died on a mean horse once while shooting the worst one). I did it because I could see their curiosity, their nervousness, their budding confidence, their wicked senses of humor that made me raise the bar on my own.
They also let me take a loan out on their wonder as mine was starting to fade.
(They still do this for me.)
And now they love my daughters,
who will love this baby boy.
The best part of it all is that this family is chosen - on purpose after coming together by accident. And it has kept choosing (and showing up) for five generations.
(FIVE GENERATIONS!)
(PLUS MY FRIEND HAS A SON!)
I did make (some) good choices…
On a final/selfish note, I am so happy that my daughters have these big sisters (and mentors - next generations usually improve upon the ones that preceded them) and now they also have a baby brother named Stephanie to love and help grow and show the(ir) world to.
Imagine all the things he (and they) will see and think and feel and know how to do.
Now I need more coffee …I want to make sure it remains the best day ever and can’t wait until it is late enough to call my friend who had a son.
On their birthday!
Merry Christmas, indeed…
ps. This reminds me of the day Steven Spielberg told me I would be a good mom once when we produced a movie together (my boss helped make this happen despite his misgivings about my producorial capabilities). I will write about that next. Maybe…
pps. The furnace is fixed! Best day for husband, too!