My Love Affair with Jeff Bridges

I've had an ongoing love affair with Jeff Bridges for 35 years. We are the same age; we grew up together. I've been in the dark with him for hours at a time. I've looked deep into his eyes, reached out to comfort him when he's been in emotional and physical pain, and watched him tenderly as he's slept, even sometimes when it's been the hitchy slumber of a drunk. I've kept him in my heart for all these years.

Okay, so it's been a one-sided love affair. No, I've never met him. Never written to him. Never texted him. Never e-mailed him. Never tried. When we grew up together, it was at the same time but not in the same place. When I was in the dark with him, it was in a movie theater with him up on the screen and me in my seat. When I reached out to him, it was in my mind directed toward characters he was playing, not in reality. But it's been a love affair nevertheless, because I admire, respect and adore him. And, every man I've ever been married to (one) or seriously dated (uh, more than one) has known that I'd be faithful to them but had a free pass for Jeff Bridges, just in case.

Jeff Bridges is tall and a bit beefy (my kind of man!), naturally sexy, and amazingly talented both as an actor and a musician. He can play the piano and guitar -- well, too! -- and can carry a tune with that low, gravelly voice better than a lot of so-called real singers. Plus, in every interview with him I've ever seen, he's been patient, kind, humble, and has touted his great love of his wife of several decades, Sue. How rare are those qualities all together in a celebrity?!

My love affair with Jeff Bridges started in 1975, when he starred in the movie Hearts of the West. As Lewis Tater, a naive young writer who goes West to seek his fortune and bumbles into becoming a short-lived movie star, he was hilarious and endearing, and he captured my heart immediately. The rest of the world basically ignored him. It took absolutely forever for it to go to video and to this day, Hearts of the West is not available on DVD or Blu-ray.

I have not seen all of Jeff Bridges' movies. I mean good grief, there are about 70 of them! But while other people first remember him in The Last Picture Show in 1971 with Cybill Shepherd or TRON in 1982, and I thought he was cute and sexy in Hearts of the West, his amazing acting ability first hit me like a Mack truck in 1992 in American Heart. In that, he played a just-out-of-prison ne'er do well whose teenage son (Edward Furlong) shows up for him to take care of, which is the last thing he wants. Though he has since played many great and diverse roles, I think his characterization of Bad Blake in the new film Crazy Heart was the epitome of a showcase for his talent, range and, yes, heart. Close-ups are a study in effective subtlety; he is bravely naked in his expressions and mannerisms, which give his character depth and dimension.

Jeff Bridges can play dirty, grody, out-of-it characters better than nearly anyone I know. Sometimes in those roles he gets cleaned up later, sometimes he doesn't. I like him better all showered and shaved, but I admire him more when he's playing it rough.

There are so many really good roles that he has played. What a filmography! I want to catch up to see more of them. Currently my two favorite Jeff Bridges movies are:
1) 1989's The Fabulous Baker Boys with his brother Beau and Michelle Pfeiffer. The Bridges boys portraying the Baker boys, with all of their fantastic piano playing, blew me away. They really played all of those songs, even though it was Dave Grusin on the the soundtrack. My favorite line as I remember it is when Michelle's character says to Jeff's character, "Women need a reason; men just need a place."
2) Crazy Heart, his most recent role for which he's finally getting long overdue recognition from his peers. I'm hoping he snags the Oscar for that role. I immediately ordered the soundtrack, the deluxe version with seven extra songs, and am amazed at and impressed with the songs sung and played by him, Colin Farrell (how unlikely a star country-singer!) and Ryan Bingham, who wrote the Oscar-nominated song from the movie, "The Weary Kind." I like so many of the songs -- here's one of my favorites:



I don't love him in all of the ones I've seen. I admit, his role in The Fisher King didn't do much for me, or his portrayal of "The Dude" in The Big Lebowski, even though many people consider them wonderful, quirky movies. And when he was puking his guts out in Crazy Heart with his greasy hair plastered against his head, he was downright disgusting. He's just not appealing to me like that. But you know what they say: We like someone because; we love someone although. I love ya, Jeff, and all of your personas.

Happy Tears, Rough Tears

I'm a sap. I admit it. I tear up every time I hear the National Anthem. Same with Lee Greenwood's "I'm Proud to Be an American" and about 50 other songs. When I lived in New York City, I'd go down a few blocks to applaud and cheer as the New York City Marathon runners would come off the bridge from Queens into Manhattan, and those amazing athletes would bring tears to my eyes. I sob at movies when some wonderful person dies or when two lovers or family members reunite, especially the second time I see them when I know what's going to happen. Tonight's Olympics opening ceremonies and the debut of "We Are the World" are guaranteed to launch me into what Oprah calls "the ugly cry."

Commercials from Hallmark, Kodak, McDonald's and even Budweiser (that sweet Clydesdale that didn't make it onto the team and trained for a year with the dog and finally did) get the waterworks flowing. If I'm with someone else, I try to think about anything else as I dig my fingernails into my palms. In movies when I'm with someone else, I have to really concentrate to take myself out of the movie mindset and think about traffic, taxes or dinner so I don't blubber to the point of embarrassing my movie mate. If I'm alone I stay through the credits as much to compose myself as to see who did what.

As one person put it, I'm an "ocean of emotion."

And then there's the rough cry. Like when I'm walking through my mom's house and it hits me that she is forever gone, that I'm there to dismantle 25 years of her life -- and mine, since it's been my second home for that long as well. I am good at distracting myself with constant noise -- tv, radio, CDs, etc. -- and stuffing my emotions. But once in awhile they bubble to the surface anyway, sometimes at quite inconvenient times.

I think that crying in movies or books or during songs can be therapeutic and cathartic. I often am aware that a cry that starts out to be about the characters in a movie seeps over into a cry about my mom or dad (both deceased, my mom as of just a few weeks ago) or about those suffering in Haiti or even across town. I think that a good long cry, regardless of its origin, cleans out the tension and the sadness from a body much like driving for awhile at constant relatively high speeds cleans out the junk from an automobile.

I just wish I could schedule these teary sessions when I'm alone and when I don't have anywhere I have to be until I can recover and touch up my make-up. But life doesn't work that way. In fact, life doesn't work the way I want it to in many ways, such as when people suffer or loved ones die. That's what triggers the tears in the first place. Whether they are happy tears or rough tears, the biology is the same even if the psychology isn't. As long as I'm going to look ugly, when I can, I choose the happy tears.

Today's the Day

How many weeks (months) ago did I say here that I was ready to tackle my weight and health issues? Well, today is (FINALLY!) the day.

How do I know this? Because I took drastic action: I ran very hot water over the tub of my nearly-most-favorite ice cream, Edy's/Dreyer's Peppermint, which is irreplaceable because it only comes out around Christmas. It's gone. Down the drain. THAT's how I know I'm serious.

Baskin-Robbins' Pralines 'n' Cream is my all-time favorite but I haven't bought any of that for awhile so it hasn't been a temptation. It wasn't in my freezer like the peppermint was.

Stop it! I'm making myself hungry for that sweet, creamy-crunchy Pralines 'n' Cream! Stop it!

Deep breath. Okay, I'm fine now.

So what pushed me over the edge into readiness and willingness, my two least favorite and most lacking attributes? Writing. Writing is how I work things out, how I realize what I am thinking and feeling, and how I often move from one stage to another. I wrote myself into the realization that it was time and that the reward of it was what I wanted to focus on.

It feels real right now. We'll see how I feel tonight at midnight.