by Adam Nimoy
And so I walked.
And she let me go.
KID MONK BARONI
WE’VE BEEN HAVING this meeting at Chris Kelton’s house. Chris and his neighbor Michael and me. We meet on Thursday nights in the backyard. It’s really nice, and on some nights we have as many as ten people. I’m the secretary. The format is like other book-study meetings: We read a chapter from the Big Book and then go around the circle sharing based on what we’ve read or anything else that comes to mind.
“Hi, I’m Adam and I’m an alcoholic and addict. I liked the part of the reading about how resentments are the number one reason for drinking and relapses, because I’ve had so much resentment in my life, the source of much of it being my relationship with my dad, although as I do the work in the program, I’m becoming less and less sure of how much I need to hold him responsible.
“There was a screening of a movie he made in 1952 called Kid Monk Baroni, a B movie that my dad starred in when he was only twenty-one. The screening was at the Egyptian Theater in Hollywood and, oh, I don’t know, I didn’t want to go, I just don’t like to go to those things. But I didn’t want him to think I was punishing him for some reason by not going, and I didn’t want my mind to have to obsess and work overtime to justify not going because that takes so much time and effort, and I was curious to see the movie because I hadn’t seen it in twenty-five or thirty years, so I said I’d do it.
“And I almost never go out in public with my dad anymore and when I got there, it was just like it always was: He was the sun drawing all these people to his glow as they came for autographs and pictures and handshakes and smiles and on and on. People gathering all around him. And there I was standing in the shadows, watching this from the outside, out in the dark. And it made me think about my own life and how I never thought it would come to this, how I thought I would have my own glow and find my own success whether it was practicing law or directing shows or maybe even movies. But for a whole bunch of reasons, not the least of which were the drinking and using, things didn’t quite go the way I expected.
“And it was so incredibly painful, for a minute, it all came back to me being on the outside, watching this going on, because that was the issue of my life, not having a close relationship with him and then having to cope with the weirdness, the constant adulation and idol worship. And I think that’s partly why my drinking and using went on for so long: to kill the pain of comparing my world to his, of not measuring up somehow, of him so incredibly focused on his career and so phenomenally successful at it. Because for me, that’s the hardest part of growing up the son of a celebrity: While you’re a kid, you kind of bask in the glow, simply because you’re surrounded by it. But when you’re old enough to move out and go off to college and be on your own, things get pretty cold real fast. And there’s an occasional solar flare and some of that sunshine is directed your way when someone asks, ‘Are you related?’
“But pretty soon, you figure out it has nothing to do with you. It’s their career not yours, it’s their success not yours, and it can get very frustrating in terms of why you can’t also generate that kind of heat and get that kind of attention on your own. I mean, even if you work hard and even if you’re confident of your abilities, it gets very confusing and disillusioning as to why you haven’t been able to make it work for you the way they made their talent and hard work work for them. And you start to believe that there’s something missing from your life, that you’ve got this gaping hole and the only way to fill it and feel better about yourself is to drink or use because there’s instant gratification with all that and then, while you’re high, you can fantasize how important you’re going to be someday and that you’ll show everyone, you’ll show your celebrity father that he’s not the only one in the family who can generate that kind of heat. I don’t know, I mean, I know that a lot of this is all superficial anyway, the fame and the adulation but knowing that doesn’t always take away the pain of your perceived shortcomings and your lack of success.
“But with the work I do in the program, I just feel so much less anxious and more content than I did before I got here. And more often than not, I can now let go of all that frustration and live in my own skin and be content with the fact that I have accomplished a hell of a lot in my own life. And that doesn’t mean that I’ve become complacent and that I’ve given up on my hopes and dreams. And sometimes, the intense craving for more success comes back to me. When I see him out there in the crowd, the craving comes back and there’s still a little bit of panic that my life is slipping away and that I’ll never get to where I want to be, that I’ll never generate any real heat of my own.
“And, I don’t know, I just, I think that’s plenty for tonight.
“Thanks for letting me share.”
HOLD FOR JONAH
I PICK JONAH up from school.
“Dad, can we go to the bank today?”
“Not today, honey, because they close in twenty minutes and we’ll never get there in time. Maybe tomorrow because you know you owe me some money for that iPod.”
“Why don’t we switch banks, Dad? Yours is never open.”
“I like it because there’s never a line there.”
“But it’s never open.”
“That makes it harder for you to take out all your money. You would have emptied your account by now if the bank were open all the time.”
And then we go back to my place so that he can do his homework. I’m living in a nice apartment in Santa Monica now. Maddy helped pick it out and she helped me to set it up. But she still won’t stay over. At least it’s nice to have Jonah there.
He works for about an hour and says he’s done, which I don’t quite believe, but we look at his grades online and they’re pretty darn good, which is terrific in light of how much he struggled last year. Then he picks up my Fender Strat and starts wailing on “Hangar 18,” making it impossible for me to concentrate. I tell him to use the headphones but he refuses. Note for note he’s perfect on “Hangar 18”—his fingers are long and elegant now, and it’s like poetry watching him play. And I like Dave Mustaine and Megadeth as much as the next guy but I’ve heard this song about fifty times over the past two weeks and it’s starting to wear. Sometimes, I wonder where I went wrong—our musical tastes used to be so similar and now he’s gone straight to metal. It’s like I put in an order for a Deadhead and got a Metalhead instead. I beg him to do something else just for another hour and he says fine, that he wants to ride his skateboard down to the surf shop to look at surfboards and stuff, and I say okay, I’ll come get him in an hour.
After he leaves, I check my e-mail and find one from Richard the Tall, the agent I’ve by now recently met for lunch. He says he’s read my material, but instead of commenting on it directly he suggests I write a novel about a girl like Holly and a guy like me who aren’t meant to be together but have sex and eventually love each other in their own way. “They should take a trip, like the road trip in Sideways, that forces them closer together than they’re ready for, while they reveal their personal stories and are tested by what comes their way.” I reply back thanking him for taking the time and telling him that I’m going to brainstorm ideas for the road trip novel.
I have no intention of ever contacting him again.
The phone rings and it’s Jonah. He wants me to come down to check out the new surfboard he’s going to buy for six hundred dollars.
“You’re not buying a new board.”
“Oh, my God, Dad, you said that if I get good grades I could get a new board.”
“I said by the end of the semester, if you have good grades, we would look into getting you one for Hanukkah.”
“Are you joking?!”
I love that line: “Are you joking?” Maddy and Jonah both use it when they refuse to believe something I’ve just said.
“Are you joking?! Dad, that is not what you said.”
“Jonah, that is exactly what I said and you have the worst habit of changing the d
eal to get what you want right now. Next time, get it in writing and we won’t have to go through this.”
“Oh, my God, Dad, you said tomorrow we could go to the bank because I’m paying for this with my own money.”
“I said we could go to the bank to get the money you already owe me for the iPod.”
“Come on, Dad, I had them put the board on hold for me and everything.”
“Jonah, you are not getting a board and I’m coming down there right now.”
And then he switches gears and his mood changes into Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky.
“Okay, Dad, see you later.”
Click.
He always says that “see you later” whether I’m going to see him in five minutes or the next day. I just love that. And I love the way he can change his tone on a dime: He’ll switch from totally argumentative to complete and willing capitulation. Actually, what I think is going on here is that he felt some pressure from the salespeople and he now feels obliged to buy the stuff and he wants me to come down and play bad cop to get him off the hook. We’ve been through this scenario before.
So I drive down there and the second I walk in the door Jonah comes up to me.
“Dad, please, please, can I get it? I’ll use my own money. Please. Please, Dad.”
Standing behind him are two salespeople, a guy and a girl, just standing there waiting. I know this is just part of the show to prove to them that he really wants the board even though he knows he can’t have it.
It’s late in the day, almost nightfall, and there’s not much traffic in the store right now and so the salespeople have nothing better to do than to stand around and put the thumbscrews on Jonah and then on me. The guy’s name is Tim and he’s always trying to sell me something, and the girl, a blonde, is wearing a short skirt that shows off her incredible legs. I took my first surf lesson from Tim about a year ago, and now, when I see him in the water and ask him questions about surfing, he’s always short with me, like, “Hey, pal, we’re not on the clock here so don’t try to hit me up for some freebies.”
Laid out at Tim’s feet on the showroom floor is a beautiful epoxy surfboard. It’s white with red trim. There’s a strip of masking tape on it that reads, “Hold for Jonah.” Next to it is a silver board bag that you use for carrying the surfboard around. It also has a strip of masking tape that reads, “Hold for Jonah.” And next to the board bag is a stomp pad and a leash—and I’m not even going to try to explain what those are for but they both have masking tape that reads, “Hold for Jonah.” It’s all part of the territory of raising a fourteen-year-old boy who just loves rock ’n’ roll and surfing and back-to-back episodes of The Dave Chapelle Show and Family Guy and who just loves to buy things.
“Dad, please, please, let me get it. I told them I would pick everything up tomorrow, after we go to the bank.”
I just look up at Tim and smile.
“Hey, Tim.”
Tim says hey and smiles back, because he knows what’s going on. The blonde runs off with her incredible legs to answer the phone. I’m still smiling when I turn to Jonah.
“I hear Hanukkah is early this year.”
“Dad, please.”
“It’s really a pretty board, but you’re not getting it. Tim, will you excuse us while we go off to have a little powwow.”
Tim’s still smiling. “I totally understand.”
I gently lead Jonah to the back of the store.
“Dad, why won’t you let me? You said we could go to the bank tomorrow.”
“I said we could go to get the money you owe me for the iPod.”
“I’ve wanted that board for, like, months.”
“Well, you’re going to have to wait a little longer.”
“Why won’t you let me?”
Now I put my hands on Jonah’s cheeks and squeeze them together. Jonah’s got short hair now and he’s tall and in high school, but he’s still a boy. I slip into my Elmer Fudd imitation.
“You know, Yonah, you ah soooo wucky to have me watching out for you. ’Cause if I wasn’t awound, yo bank account would be empty wight now.”
“Dad, this isn’t funny. I want that surfboard.”
“You weewee have noooo idea what a wucky guy you are to have me awound.”
“Dad, pleeeease! Why can’t I get it, Dad? Why can’t I?”
I start holding Jonah tight and give him little kisses because we’re standing behind the T-shirt racks and no one can see us. Then I get a little distracted because they have such great stuff in the store, like the nine-foot surfboards hanging overhead with vibrant color patterns airbrushed on them. And I’m holding Jonah tight just like I used to when he was small. I remember how cute he was as a little boy and how I just wanted to squeeze him all the time. I do this with Maddy too, I hold her tight with such intensity, just like I did when she was little and had curly hair and took her dolls everywhere and I’d hug and squeeze her. And that’s what I do now that she’s sixteen and he’s fourteen, I just remember what I was feeling when they were small, the intensity of those feelings all comes back to me and I hug them even tighter. And they still let me do it. In front of their friends they still let me hold them and kiss them and they don’t care what the others think—or maybe they want them to know how much their dad still loves them, even if he did move out of the house.
“Why not, Dad? Just tell me why not.”
Now I put on the tough parent act.
“Because you just got a new RAZR phone two weeks ago and last week you got the iPod and now you’re on to this. You’re way into getting stuff, my friend, and it’s not a good thing.”
“Yeah, but Michael has a new phone and an iPod and a new surfboard.”
“I don’t care about what Michael gets. I care about you, and you need to learn that just because you want it doesn’t mean you’re going to get it.”
“But it’s my money.”
“Yes, but you’re a fourteen-year-old boy, which means you’re a minor, which means you need my permission to get into that bank account and you don’t have it. In another four years you’ll be eighteen and you can blow what’s left of your Bar Mitzvah money on whatever you want, but by then you’re going to have to figure out how to pay for your car insurance.”
Jonah takes a breather. This all seems to be sinking in. I think I’ve gotten through to him.
“I don’t do this because it’s fun for me. I don’t like saying no, like, twenty times and I hate fighting with you about this all the time. But you need to learn that sometimes good things come to those who wait, and when you set your mind on something, you have zero in the patience department. And did you even ask for Carlos to get him to give you a discount?”
“No. He’s not here tonight.”
“Well, we need to talk to him because six hundred dollars for a piece of painted foam is ridiculous and we drop so much money in this place I know he’ll give us a break. But all that’s going to have to wait until we get your report card and until Hanukkah arrives, which is only six weeks away.”
“But they went through the trouble of pulling all this stuff out for me.”
I knew it. He felt bad about making them go through all the trouble without making a sale. It’s so cute the way he cares about other people’s feelings . . . other people’s except mine in these “why can’t I have it?” situations.
“Jonah, believe me, they do this all the time. That’s their job.”
“Well, will you tell them?”
“No problem. I’ll explain the whole situation to Tim and I promise you, he’ll totally understand.”
“All right. Thanks, Dad.”
We walk back to the front of the store and I explain everything to Tim, and he assures Jonah that when he’s ready, if they don’t have that board in the shop, he can get it in two days. And Jonah bends down and starts peeling off all the masking tape on the board and the bag and the leash and the stomp pad, the tape on all that expensive new stuff that he just had to have, the tape that reads,
“Hold for Jonah.”
MY NEW NOT-SO-BRILLIANT CAREER: THE EYES HAVE IT
NIGHTTIME AT A STOPLIGHT. Beautiful silky blonde in a Mercedes on my right. I wave to her. She waves back. Maybe my age. No ring. She drives off. End of that affair.
Now it’s Thursday morning. My directing students drag themselves into class. They’re totally lethargic and beat-up because they’ve been out making their little films and they’re really getting the message that filmmaking is hard work. The lecture I’m supposed to give them today is “Adam Nimoy’s Incredibly Wonderful Lecture on Story Structure,” because I’m always emphasizing story and performance over filmmaking technique. This is the biggest problem with new filmmakers: They get so caught up in the technical aspects of filmmaking—the camera, the lighting, the editing—that they forget we’re just storytellers who happen to tell our tales visually.
This is critical to what I’m trying to teach in class. But because they’re so fried, they’re not responding to the lecture.
“Listen, you guys, I know you’ve been out shooting and you’re tired and guess what? Welcome to filmmaking. Because how you feel right about now is how I feel after prepping my show before I even start to shoot. Because, as you know, prepping things properly is a huge amount of work. Forget about an eight- to ten-week film shoot, I’m talking about just prepping a one-hour show that shoots for eight days. By the time you take over the set, you’re already tired from the story meetings and the casting sessions and the location scouts and breaking down the script and the meetings with various departments. So when you get to the set, you have to find things to keep your energy going otherwise the crew will go right down the sinkhole with you because they’ve been going at it for weeks if not months of thirteen- to sixteen-hour days and they are really beat. One of the things I do to keep my energy up is eat all day because if I’m not constantly fueling the fire, I will just pass out. The other thing that keeps me going is working with the talent, the actors, because if you’ve done your job, if you’ve prepped the show or the picture to the best of your ability, you should be able to enjoy watching great performances all day. And that is one of the reasons I try not to watch the monitor when I’m directing. Most directors sit and watch the monitor during a take, but if the camera is not moving, if it’s a static over-the-shoulder shot on an actor or a close-up, I’m standing right next to the camera. Why do you think I do that?”
