Well. Anyone who’s known me or listened to me on the podcasts for the last 2 years knows that I’m quite obsessed with Grey Gardens.
Not so much the Broadway show, although I did enjoy it immensely. But I really truly love the original documentary, and last fall flipped my lid when a companion film or more footage was released on DVD. I guess that’s what I liked about the B’way show. I felt like I got to have 2 more hours with 2 of my favorite women.
I’ve been asked by many, many people why I love this film - Why I love these ladies so much. I’m not totally sure. I know I wasn’t sure after the first time I watched them. The first time I just knew there was something about them I loved. Let’s face it - they are pretty crazy. But for every flea bite and every cat taking a dump behind a portrait, there are gems of philosophy and wisdom that have changed my life. I grew up in a household with a lot of love, but with a distinct feeling that I was leaving my life for someone else. Sometimes that feeling was that I was living my life for Jesus, other times that I was living for my Mom and Dad. And when you’re young and your world is small the line between Jesus and your parents can actually get pretty blurry. These ladies tried the best they could to live their lives for themselves.
In the same scene of Grey Gardens that the camera catches a cat defecating behind a stunning portrait of a young Edith Bouvier Beale, Edith, who is at the time practically bed-ridden says, (and I paraphrase) “oh, let him be. At least someone around here is doing exactly what they want.” Funny, gross, touching, weirdly gothic and bohemian all at the same time. Still gross - I know.
I don’t spend a lot of time by myself. Even when I’m “alone” in Chicago there is a sense that I should be with people, or someone will come home soon, or there’s something I am supposed to be doing or working on. So when I am alone I weird vault of thinking flies open and I think things I haven’t thought of before, or at least in a long time.
The Spring that it was evident that I would be divorcing my wife (yes, wife) I took a trip to NYC for the first time in my life. By myself. I had no idea that I was going to be coming out of the closet - I’m not sure what I was thinking. I remember that I was hurt and tired of my life and wanting for the first time to really ATTACK my life. My first night in NYC my friend Jennifer suggested I spend the next day at the Metropolitan Museum. The Jackie Kennedy clothing collection was being presented by the Costume Institute. Hmmm, do you think Jennifer knew I was gay? Of course I went - and loved it
But even more than the exhibit - I loved the time alone. By myself, no schedule. I got a black & white cookie at nearby E.A.T. and sat on the steps of the museum and just thought about my life and where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do.
Since that trip I’ve come back to NYC at least once a year and I always go back the the Met Musuem, get a cookie, sit and think.
One year (I usually go right after my birthday) an ex-boyfriend gave me a lovely leather-covered journal and said to me, “Do me a favor and write about everything” That year I walked through Central Park on the way to the Met. Sat at the Bethesda Fountain. Thought more about me, being gay, but still not sure who I was. Still kind of shaken that my ex-boyfriend was my ex all of the sudden and that I just couldn’t seem to be calm and normal and - what’s the word - oh yeah, “happy” But I sat. And grew a little I’m sure.
The next time I did the trip to the steps of the Met - I was with a friend. And maybe high? or at least hung-over - probably both. Not sure how much growing up was going on then.
And this year? Well, I finally made my way to East Hampton. The hometown of my ex-wife, Edie Beale, and playground to Jackie O, Martha, and Ina. I had a marvelous time. It was great to be with my ex - to just love each other and laugh and see that we both grew up so much in our time together and have both become more calm and happy in the years apart.
“Do you wanna go look for Grey Gardens?” she asked.
“Hell yes” - the only response that could come to mind for me.
We weren’t shy about using the power of the internet to full-on stalk and take pictures of present-day Grey Gardens. sans Beales and kitties and raccoons. But still we were there. I could instantly spot the path that Little Edie took to the beach, and where the Maysels parked their car. I felt something close to religous. We kept giggling and saying, “is this totally queer” Yes. Its queer. But so much fun!
Sidenote: We also stalked Ina - and found her house too. I squealed when I saw her black BMW in the driveway and though about her running off to see TR or Miguel. or to buy a tomato tart at Loaves & Fishes.
This morning I asked The Ex “How about the Bouvier plot? I wanna find Big Edie’s grave”
I knew from reading Lois Wright’s “My Life at Grey Gardens” that Big Edie was buried in the area in the Bouvier’s burial plot. And we set off in the morning, coffee in hand to search through the Catholic graveyard for Big Edie. On the way we saw the Catholic Church that Little Edie attends in “The Beales of Grey Gardens” - There’s much debate about the church and its strictures and the effect it has had on the two women, but they both maintain that they just “adore the Catholic church”
On to the Cemetary - lots of graves, rosaries, statues of Mary, Irish, Italian, and Polish surnames. I thought I even spotted a Uskevitch, like Eugene - the nice decent man who Little Edie claims to have wanted to marry her. We made our way to the front of the cemetary and found a collection of stones that were not facing the same direction of everyone else. All of the stones had been faces one way - then we saw about 15 facing a completely different direction.
And there she was. Not buried with the Beales, not buried with her beloved daughter, but on the edge of the Bouvier family plot. A large cross faced the rode with the name “Bouvier” chiseled into it, and a smaller stone about 6 feet from it, “Edith Bouvier Beale”
Some other pilgrim had placed a bunch of mums, wrapped with a rubber band on the back of the headstone. The flowers were dead and kind of clinging to the headstone.
“Poor Edie” was all I could say. So sad and alone. Or was she sad? I don’t know. I like that I don’t know.
I think I like that about me too. I’m not ever really sure if I’m ultimately sad or happy. But as The Ex dropped me off in downtown East Hampton in front of the Ladies Village Improvement Society I sat alone and didn’t go in, as she had suggested. I just sat alone and waited for the bus to NYC. And as I remembered that there was free Wi-fi on the bus, I thought for the first time in a long while about writing.
Why am I so moved by these ladies and Grey Gardens? Because they were who they were. They were sickened at the thought of being at the Maidstone Club and listening to investment bankers talk about their Yale days. They wouldn’t have gone into the Ladies Village Improvement Society building either. They were who they were.
I’m working on it. Working on just being me. Working on learning that - being me is pretty awesome. A shining golden amazing creation that is STILL the child of God that I was told I was from Day One. Still don’t need to be shy or ashamed or appologize for being loud or for being quiet. I’m learning. Its taking a long-ass time. But I think maybe I’m happy.
Or not.
I don’t know.
So it is the Saturday before Easter.
It has totally snuck up on me this year - and it sucks out loud that snowed inches and inches today.
