by Sharon Delaney
The Chakram Newsletter: Issue 22
They’ve got classes for everything in Hollywood. Spinning to keep your body in shape, swordfighting to help you get along with your co-stars and sitcom classes to teach you, well… I'll let Renee tell the story.
I've been meeting Renee and Lucy in parking lots around Los Angeles lately. With their hectic schedules of auditions, classes and Hollywood “let's have lunch”es, these clandestine rendezvous - frequently near Starbucks for quick and easy sustenance - have turned out to be quite handy. Today, however, I'm phoning Renee. It's 1:30 in the afternoon and it's a Monday. I dial, the phone rings... Renee says, “hello.”
“No class today?” I begin.
“Not today,” she said. “I’ve been taking three a week.”
“Still studying with Iris?” I asked, bringing up the scene study teacher we had talked about during the last interview.
“Yes. I've been working on the classics, like Tennessee Williams, with Iris, Shakespeare with Ellen Geer and the third,” she said, starting to chuckle, “with Nancy who specializes in sitcoms.”
“Sitcom classes? I didn't know there were such things,” I responded, surprised and wondering about the rueful laugh my comment elicited.
“It's funny because I had an audition for a sitcom and it was the worst audition I've had in my life,” she answered and her laughter danced over the phone line.
“On your end or theirs?” I queried.
“On my end. Oh my God,” she sighed in remembrance.
“Did you take the class before or after the audition?” I probed.
“Before.” There was another round of chuckling. “A lot of good it did me.” She explained further. “I was just nervous. You know, the whole audition process is very bizarre. I went in to meet a comedian who was holding auditions for his own show. When I walked in, I said, ‘I saw your picture on a fan site.’ As soon as I said, the guy looked at me like a deer caught in headlights! He thought I was a stalker!” She let out a burst of laughter. “It was absolutely the wrong way to start. He didn't know what to do and said nothing to me during the whole audition. And from there on, I was not a very funny person.” More laughter.
I commiserated and then asked, puzzled, “Why did that subject pop into your head?”
“I was trying to break the ice and thought it would give us something in common to talk about,” Renee answered, then added, “I'm not really sure if he knew I was on Xena or not.”
“He might not have known? That's a six-year credit on your resume,” I said, surprised.
“You don't know how much information people have and they saw a lot of people that day,” she explained. “It's his big break and I think he was a bit overwhelmed. He seemed like a really nice guy. I'm hoping it works for him. But I thought that was funny,” Renee said laughing even harder.
We’d talked about scene study classes in previous interviews and I wondered how these three classes differed from each other.
“They're all different. I was a bit schizophrenic,” she said. “I would go into Ellen's class and we'd be doing Greek tragedy. Then I would step into Nancy's class and I’m listening to people do scenes from Seinfeld. In Iris' class I was working on A Streetcar Named Desire. I was just like…” she made zinging noises as if bouncing off the walls. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, laughing.
“That's a lot of homework!” I said sympathetically.
“It was a lot of work,” Renee agreed. “It was frustrating, too, because I would learn something in each class and then try to apply it to the next class and nothing seemed to be cohesive. Not one tool I learned from one genre worked for the others. It took me a while to not just be completely frustrated and shut down.”
Well, that puzzled me. Not knowing a thing about acting, I was surprised the disciplines were so different. “Can you give me an example?” I queried.
She thought for a moment and then said, “Well, one example would be when you have long speeches in the theatre, as in Shakespeare. The teacher, especially with me, would say I had to have ‘up’ endings. That means you pitch the end of the sentence up. It gives you a platform to jump off to the next point and you pitch the end of that one up too. You get higher and higher until you get to your point. It keeps people drawn in.
“So I tried that in the modern classes. If I had a speech, I would pitch it up and the teachers didn't know what I was doing; that I was doing It on purpose. Both Iris and Nancy said, ‘Renee, these aren't questions. You're making each sentence a question.’ They would tell me to pitch the endings down. They didn't know why I kept doing it,” she laughed.
“I see,” I told her. “In long classical speeches, you have to draw the audience in. Whereas, when you're doing Streetcar or a sitcom, it's a more natural speech with shorter sentences, not long speeches. Where is your voice supposed to go? Do they teach you a rhythm for sitcoms?” I asked.
“Nancy likes to have a fluidity of the voice,” Renee began. “She would have me state things in almost a monotonous, even-toned manner with no pitches and no variances in my dialogue. I found that really frustrating and boring. But she was trying to show me I should have a foundation and then, from there, I can do what I want.
“Sitcoms have a certain style of acting and comedy. I don't think I have a bad sense of humor, but I think I’m not good at setting up a joke. I don't know,” Renee chuckled.
“Wait a minute here,” I protested. “You did fine with comedy on Xena. Broad slapstick, dry witty material. Your delivery could make me laugh even when a line wasn't all that funny,” I told her.
“I guess,” she murmured, not sounding convinced.
“Maybe it's the situation,” I proposed, thinking back on the comedy episodes of Xena. “You do better and feel more comfortable when the comedy comes out of the scene rather than one-liners?” I suggested.
“It seems like that's more natural to me,” Renee agreed. “I've thought maybe sitcoms aren't my thing. And I really don't know what I want to do now. I know what I don't want to do which is a lot of offers I'm getting for creature work. Not that that's a bad idea if there's a sense of humor about it. But they're all taken way too seriously,” she laughed.
“I guess I’m trying to keep an open mind,” she said, thinking out loud, “but who's to say ten years from now... maybe I'll be on a sitcom, maybe not.” She pauses and then chuckles. “Probably not. I don't think I quite have the knack. It's been fun though. I really enjoy being back in LA and meeting all the creative people here.”
“You know, hardly any sitcoms make me laugh,” I said, remembering how many times I said to myself that a line on a comedy show was funny, but I didn't laugh out loud.
“I'm the same,” Renee agreed. “That's why I think I'm not right for sitcom material. I shouldn't say it, it's going to curse me,” she laughed, “but I didn’t find the scene for that audition funny. And I think it's hard to find the jokes when your heart's not in it. But I thought it was important to meet these people. That’s why I went in. Maybe that wasn't a good idea because they'll never invite me back!” she said laughing easily.
“Then again,” I said, “you never know. Someone sitting in that room might have said to themself, ‘Well she's no good at this, but, I like her.’”
“That’s true,” Renee agreed with a smile in her voice.
“When we met recently, you said you were gonna try and take a break from classes. At the time, I didn’t realize you were taking three of them. You're metriculating,” I teased.
Renee laughed. “I've always been the kind of person that dives right in - immerse myself. I need to enjoy my son. There's more to life than work. I'm feeling so much better already. I'm probably going to continue Iris' class because she's such a great lady and I really enjoy my classmates. They're wonderful. Even if I'm not working on anything, I can still go and watch others perform.”
“You mentioned working on a scene from Streetcar with Iris,” I began. “What part did you play?”
“I wanted to do Blanche,” Renee said excitedly. “I wanted to experiment playing a character that was so fragile. I just finished it. It was really interesting for me. Every time we put the scene up, I kept getting frustrated. I would get really angry because in this scene she’s at such an awful point in her life.”
“The character was angry or Renee was angry?” I asked.
“No, no, no. I was angry at her situation,” Renee explained eagerly. “She's so demoralized and furious with Stanley. I kept wanting to fight. You know, bring out the kickboxing,” she said laughing. “It was really difficult for me to play someone who couldn't fight back and is so weak. But I thought it was interesting to find her strengths or her defense mechanisms to survive in this world.”
“What were her defense mechanisms?” I asked.
“Oh gosh, I'm trying to think,” Renee murmured as she ran back over the play in her mind. “We only did one scene and, obviously, if you worked on the whole play you would understand the character more.”
“Which scene was it?” I prompted.
“At the end - after Stanley's friend Mitch dumps Blanche and she tells Stanley she's going off on a cruise,” Renee responded. “Blanche has an imaginary beau who's invited her on a cruise. She goes into this imaginary world. She’s trying to get away, but Stanley keeps bringing her back to reality and it's so crushing.
“Such a great experiment for me because the teacher was so good. She kept giving me ideas. I felt myself in this scene, I don't know - just terrified. So weird. That's why you go to these classes because, suddenly, after a month, the scene works one time and you think, ‘Oh my God!’ You have that moment of being in somebody else's life and really experiencing a different world. To me that's why I'm so addicted to acting,” she exclaimed breathlessly.
“Can you imagine being totally defeated and helpless in your own life?” I asked.
“Blanche is different from me because I just wouldn't take the shit she does,” Renee said without hesitation. “But, even to the end, she's still trying to fight for her life. Isn’t that what we do? It's fight or flight.”
“Is she alive at the end? I've seen the movie and I can't remember,” I said, trying to run the movie in my head.
Renee laughed. “I don't know.”
“You don't remember either?” I joked.
“Hang on,” she said, obviously scrambling in her mind to remember what happened.
I gave her an out. “You didn't have to read to the end. You were only doing one scene,” I teased.
“No, no, I did read it,” she said laughing. “It's been a while. The sister comes back and she leaves for the sanitarium. We don’t know what happens to her. I’ll doublecheck that and get back to you,” she promised. “It’s funny that I can’t remember if she died or not because there are certain things with that play you kind of assume happened to the character. Even if it's not spelled out. I'm thrown,” she chortled.
“You worked with someone on the scene,” I stated. “Are you partnered off by the teacher or do you pick yourself?”
“It depends,” Renee explained. “If someone's looking for a scene, you just go along with them. Or if the teacher knows that someone is new to class, she might partner you up. It just falls into place.”
“Your partner comes over and you've got your scene. How do you go about working on it?” I queried.
“We start by reading it over and over,” she began. “We talk about the characters. Then read it in class. The teacher will point out aspects of the scene we're missing or she goes further into it. We do a table reading in front of the class two more times, maybe. Depends on how involved the scene is and how well we're bringing it to life. And then you start rehearsing, blocking it out and put it up with costumes.”
“Costumes!” I said in amazement. “I didn't realize it would be that elaborate.”
“Oh yeah!” Renee said excitedly, as if this was the fun part. “We try to create the atmosphere, too. If it’s a kitchen, you'll bring some canned food. Stuff to make it look like the set is alive and functioning.”
“Did you have Blanche's costume in your closet?” I asked with a chuckle.
Renee laughed. “No, I went to a vintage store. I picked out a dress that looks like an aged prom queen, it was pink,” she giggled. “Kind of ball gownish.”
“Do you have a closet that's now devoted to scene study class?” I laughed.
“I save everything,” Renee said gleefully.
“I love the idea of that closet,” I said dreamily. “And if you have a girl…”
“I know!” she agreed, catching on immediately.
“I don't know if Miles would like mom's old gowns,” I chuckled.
“He'll dress up in the cowboy hat and boots,” Renee laughed.
“Hey, that's an idea,” I said and then I was struck by a thought. “Would they ever swap gender in a scene?” I asked, curiously.
She said, laughing, “If you had a reason why you wanted to do that and it was something you wanted to explore, I'm sure you could.”
“I think that would be interesting,” I continued. “Could you imagine yourself as…”
“...Stanley?” Renee finished my thought.
“Yeah. I think you’d make a really pugnacious Stanley,” I said teasingly.
“You'd need a really effeminate man to play Blanche. Can you imagine - how bizarre,” she said, trying to think of someone to play the part.
“I haven't thought of changing genders yet because there are more female roles I want to explore.”
“Is everyone in the class the same style actor you are? They all want to examine, in depth, the characters, motivations, etc.?” I queried.
“Everyone's there because they enjoy the style of work that is required for this scene class,” Renee said. “I'm sure other classes are different. It's funny, but it's very LA to go to a scene class where you put up a scene once a month versus New York where you put up the entire play.”
“There's a difference between the classes in New York and LA? How do you know that?” I asked.
“From what I've heard, there aren't a whole lot of scene study classes in New York. The kids that went to school with me in Houston, a lot of them went to New York,” she explained. “And they would put on a play anywhere they could find a space. They have a lot of different theatre groups. People don't do that here. No one goes to LA to see an experimental play. Unless they know someone in it. People don't support theatre much here. Unless it's David Schwimmer,” she chuckled. “The only way actors can work on their craft here is by going to scene study classes. It's a safe way to keep nurturing their skills.”
She continued. “I went to see Patrick Vest, the actor who played Macbeth with me. He did a play called A Room Without Corners. A friend of his wrote it. The story is about a man in a psychiatric ward. I'm not sure how long they ran. The theatre was pretty full when we were there.”
“With all the would-be actors, writers, directors out here, I'm surprised that isn't done more,” I said. Then, thinking about playwrights, I remembered a book I was reading that discussed the debate about whether or not Shakespeare actually wrote the plays attributed to him. I wondered if Renee had thought about this.
“Do you think Shakespeare wrote his own plays? Which side of that debate are you on and have you even thought about it?” I asked.
“Hmmm... I think he wrote his own work,” she said, after a moment, “but I think he was inspired by a lot of other writers and he probably begged, borrowed and stole.” She laughed. “He took other ideas and molded them into his own verse and style.”
She was quiet for a minute, then added, “I'd rather take the time to read his work, play with it, explore it, rather than wondering if he really wrote them. I guess for some people that's important, but not for me. I just enjoy the work. And I would have to say I believe he's the author. I think he did a great job and surely he was inspired by his contemporaries and the playwrights before him.”
“Have you seen any other performances of Macbeth since you did the play?” I queried.
“Yes, I saw it performed at A Noise Within,” Renee answered. “A friend of mine was playing Lady Macbeth.”
“Having played Lady M, could you sit there as simply a member of the audience? Or does having played a character affect how you view someone else playing the same role,” I asked.
“Do you mean, can I sit in the audience and be affected by the play even though I've done the part?” she qualified.
“Yeah,” I said.
“There were parts of the play where I was watching and curiously surprised at the different ways my friend played Lady Macbeth. Her choices were so different from mine,” she explained. “But then, there were other parts, particularly the sleepwalking scene, where she blew me away and carried me into it and I was completely affected by her portrayal.”
That made me think. “When you watch Xena clips, do you find yourself ever getting caught up in the story?”
That stumped her for a moment. “Hmmm, I tend to say no, I don't get caught up. But then, I remember there have been a couple times, maybe during some of the sweeter scenes with Lucy, where I’ll think, ‘Oh, that was so nice.’”
“A warm fuzzy moment?” I said, feeling a smile on my lips.
“Yeah, a cozy warm feeling all over,” she said with a soft laugh.
“Back to Macbeth,” I said, “did your friend's performance influence how you might play the role if you did it again?”
“If I played it again, would I change my performance?” she said, thinking out loud. “I probably would have borrowed some of her ideas. And seen if I could incorporate my own style with specific images she brought up.”
“When you see a piece of theatre, a movie, do you view these entertainment forms differently from someone who's not in the business?” I asked. “I mean, you know how it's done. Can you divorce yourself from that?”
“I'm always trying to learn more. I'm sure that when I'm watching there’s a side of me that's trying to learn and remember maybe the one gem of that movie or play that I can take away and say, ‘I get this and maybe it will help me in the future.’ But there's another part of me that loves what I do and that makes me a great audience member. I get sucked up into it,” she laughed. “It's easy for me to sustain my disbelief. I have a pretty good imagination. If I'm won over right away, I go with it.
“Like, for instance, I saw the Japanese movie Ringu which the Naomi Watts movie, The Ring, was based on. I was terrified! And I loooooove horror movies. I’ve always loved them - all my life. Ringu was great. One of the few times lately I’ve been afraid.”
“Were you at home watching it?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she answered.
“And you were still afraid? Even in the safety of your own home?” I laughed.
“Oh yeah!” she said, laughing along with me. “But l'm a wuss. I love the fright and the thrill it gives me, but I'm a real wuss.”
Now I was puzzled. “Wait a minute, if you like horror movies, how can you be a wuss?”
“I love that feeling, but then I have to go and read something after seeing the movie just to get over the fright,” she said, laughing harder.
“Okay, let's get off horror movies before we both have nightmares. Let's talk about your last performance of Lady Macbeth in the candle scene,” I said, seeing the perfect segue. “You threw yourself more into the wail than you had at any other performance - says she who saw all 16 of them.”
I felt Renee nodding in agreement.-
“I guess I was pushing myself a little bit more each time and getting the courage to go further. Which is a real shame cuz I wish I'd started at that level. Now I know. And I guess that's part of the experience of theatre.”
“When you came off stage after that performance, did you feel a rush?” I asked, wondering if her final performance of that scene had affected her as much as it did the audience
“Every time I did that scene - it's just so beautiful and so sad. Even if I didn’t go as far into it, it still touched me. You're right, though, there was a sense of ‘Wow!’ that last time,” Renee said, laughing with a sense of awe. “If you try a different pitch or different pace, it's a risk that maybe you don't take every night, but then you decide to go for it. And it worked. Maybe it didn't for anyone else, but I thought it did.”
“I felt the audience go still,” I told her.
“That’s one of the things I loved about seeing my friend at A Noise Within. She was just so - how would you describe her? I remember her hands. Trying to get the blood off her fingers. It was so specific and she was more insane. I think I was playing more of the sentimentality? I don't know. Having seen both of us, what do you think?”
“I'd say you played more of the heartbreak and anguish rather than the insanity of the moment,” I answered, seeing both women in my mind.
“Yeah. She was much more frenzied. That was great,” Renee said, excitedly.
“It reminded me of when I had a three-inch flying roach come through the window and land on my couch in my apartment in New York City. I had a flyswatter in my hand and I began to beat it. I couldn't stop my hand. I scared myself. There was such terror that my body moved out of control,” I said, as a shudder ran through me.
“Oh my God! We have them in Houston,” Renee said sympathizing. “They take over the room. ‘You get out,’ they say,” she bellowed, laughing.
“That's what your friend’s version of the candle scene reminded me of,” I went on. “I was insane at that moment. If I'd had an axe…”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “I definitely felt scared for Lady Macbeth. You could see she would commit suicide after that. And I thought that was such an interesting way to go. That's what's so fascinating about Shakespeare. I don't care who wrote it. Whoever wrote it is a genius,” she said admiringly.
“What's interesting,” she continued, “is that if you were playing Lady Macbeth, you probably would go more toward my friend's perspective because it relates to you. You can understand that feeling. Whereas I couldn't and I chose the other way. To me it was the heartbreak. That’s the way I related to her. I think what's so interesting about Shakespeare is that everyone brings their own life into these characters and that's why it's so fascinating to see them over and over again. To see what another actor will do.”
“Have you ever felt out of control like that? Is that a skin you could put on?” I wondered.
“It's funny you say that because you choose scenes for a reason. Or so I've heard,” Renee began. “I think in Streetcar, for me to go inside that fragile a character, someone who feels impotent - for me there was a sense of being in a body I had no control of. But it reminds me also of the reason I went into Ellen Geer's class. She recently chose a character for me to work on because she wanted me to deal with rage.”
“What character was that?” I asked.
“Electra by Sophocles,” Renee answered. “The scene was of Electra trying to condemn her mother, Clytemnestra, for killing her father and banishing her brother, Orestes. Electra is in mourning for her dead father and she has this long speech and the chorus speaks to her.”
O thou pure sunlight, and thou air, earth’s canopy, how
often have ye heard the strains of my lament, the wild
blows dealt against this bleeding breast, when dark night
fails! And my wretched couch in yonder house of woe
knows well, ere now, how I keep the watches of the
night, – how often I bewail my hapless sire; to whom
deadly Ares gave not of his gifts in a strange land, but
my mother, and her mate Aegisthus, cleft his head with
murderous axe, as woodmen fell an oak. And for this
no plaint bursts from any lip save mine, when thou, my
father, hath died a death so cruel and so piteous!
“Ellen especially wanted me to do this scene because she wanted me to just spin off. That was my goal,” Renee said, laughing with glee. “It was interesting because, even in that scenario, I’m still pretty controlled, you know. I definitely am not the kind of person that would just completely lose it.”
“I'm picturing ‘Ides Of March’ where you stabbed all the soldiers to protect Xena and seemed out of control. And yet you say that, as Electra, you were still managing to keep something under control,” I said.
“You know why? I think in Electra there's so much dialogue, there’s a part of you that has to see where you're going,” Renee explained. “Does that make sense? It doesn't help me to get lost in all the drama and emotion. There's always that part of me that's so logical that it's going to keep me going. But it was a good scene for me because Ellen kept pushing me more and more and more. I was able to just lay into this woman and I felt so empowered as Electra because I thought her argument was fantastic.”
“Her argument for…” I prompted.
“For wanting to punish the mother by killing her,” Renee stated. “Electra wants her brother to come and avenge her father's death by murdering their mother. When I first read it, because I'm always playing devil's advocate, I thought the mother's debate was perfect because I'm a mother! ‘My daughter was killed by my husband who was your sister. How could you be on his side when he murdered your sister?’ Clytemnestra says to Orestes. And, to me, being a mother, I thought, ‘Well yeah! I understand that,’” Renee laughed. “Eventually I came around to side with Electra.”
“You decided her argument was valid or you decided I'm gonna have to go Ellen’s way this time?” I teased.
“Ah, I don't know. Maybe a bit of both,” Renee chuckled.
I thought for a moment and then said, “Maybe what they need to give you is a shorter scene with no dialogue. Then you could just concentrate on being mad.”
“It's funny you should say that. I remember Gabrielle hitting a tree during ‘The Greater Good.’ They kept giving me more and more staffs to hit the tree with cuz I kept bending them. I had so much energy. I can't remember who was directing it - it's like another lifetime - but he just kept saying, ‘Go until you can't go anymore.’ Well. I kept going and going and they were running out of staffs. They were really worried, too. I was on the last one,” Renee laughed at the memory.
“Do you suppose there was a height of emotion the director was trying to get you to?” I asked.
“I think they were trying to get me exhausted and tired - but I had a lot of energy.” She laughed again, then was quiet for a moment. “It's funny how playing Gabrielle seems like a different person, you know. Especially early Gabrielle.” She paused and then whispered wistfully, “So different.”
“From the later character and who you are now?” I asked, quietly.
“Yeah,” she said softly.
The fans had recently found out about an appearance of Renee's non-Xena work that I thought I'd run past her. “You appeared on a New Zealand TV show called Mataku - an episode called ‘The Heirloom’ - in Maori it’s called ‘Te Kura Paraoa’?” I asked.
“Xena was just about to finish and I spent a day filming that," Renee explained. “The writer/director, Michael Bennett, is a friend. I played an art dealer. Michael asked if I'd pop in for one scene. I think Michael Hurst had done one of their other episodes. A lot of Auckland actors were coming in and helping out. They were really great stories. It's all about Maori superstitions. I heard the series did pretty well.”
“You were reading Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman?” I asked.
“I haven't finished it,” she answered. “It deals with fight or flight, how you react. Going back to that sitcom audition, it was a perfect example of his theory. There I was, as soon as I started talking about the fan web site to ‘the star,’ I felt like such an idiot, all I wanted to do was leave the room. I immediately went into flight. And, truly, instead of leaving, which I couldn't do, I just clammed up. I was quiet. I didn't feel funny. The last thing I wanted to do was try to be outgoing and act. All I wanted to do was get out of that room as fast as I could,” Renee laughed. “It was really interesting because that's what Goleman talks about - our instincts. And mine’s obviously to run! Bless Gabrielle, but I'm outta here!” She burst into laughter. “If you understand how you deal with situations like that, then you can try to change it.”
“Was that a book you picked up on your own?” I wondered.
“It was on my husband, Steve's, recommended reading list for his masters in business degree - how to manage people. My mom read it before I did and she was the one that sold me on it. I still have it by my bedside because I've been picking up a lot of other things.”
“What else are you reading?” I inquired.
“William Congreve's play Way of the World. Ellen wanted me to do a monologue from it,” she explained.
“What are you reading right now?” I continued.
“Oh God! Steve has me reading a book on investing because I am so bad with my money,” Renee laughed and sighed.
“I knew we had something in common,” I laughingly commiserated as I looked at the calendar and saw tax day approaching.
“I literally read about ten minutes of it and fall asleep,” she chuckled. “I could read two Shakespeare plays and be so happy, but I don’t care about this stuff. However, it's important to plan for the future.”
“Who is the author?” I asked.
“Doug Fabian. I'll walk upstairs and get the title before we get off. I’m still in the intro, I swear!” She burst into laughter again. “I hate it. But I figure I'll get through it. I'm dying to read the other book that’s by my bed. That's why I have to read Doug's first so I can pick up this other one.”
“Reward and punishment?” I teased.
“It is,” she laughed. “The one I want to read is Andy Kaufman Revealed by Bob Zemuda. Eddie just read it. It’s the book Man in the Moon, the movie about Andy, was based on. It sounds hilarious. Eddie was telling me about it as he was reading it. I think Andy’s gotta be funny but crazzzzzzzy! Talk about living a totally different life than mine.”
I could hear her walking up the stairs as we were talking. Then she chimed in with. “The investing book is Maverick Investing by Doug Fabian.”
“I wondered if you'd picked up the Goleman book because of your son, Miles?” I said. “I remember the last line in the Amazon review of it said, ‘Goleman calls for universal adoption of educational curricula that teach youngsters how to regulate their emotional responses and to resolve conflict peacefully.’”
“I’m starting to get into the terrible twos,” Renee moaned. “I cannot believe my son can say ‘NO!’ so emphatically.”
“And they say no even to something they want, right?” I said in amazement.
“Absolutely!” she said, laughing. “‘You want to get up on the chair?’ ‘NO!’ You're right, I should finish Emotional Intelligence.”
“In this day and age, where there's so much information about the intellectual life of children, their psychology, and so much introspection by parents as well, is there something you want to teach your child?” I paused. “Or is it just surviving?” I chuckled.
Renee thought for a moment. “You know, ask me this again in five years,” she laughed. “Right now, I feel like I'm just trying to survive. Miles is 18 months old and someone said, ‘Don't worry, it's going to get easier.’ I asked, ‘How long do I have to wait?’ She said, ‘Until he’s three.’ It seems like a lifetime now, but other mothers have done it and it's paying my dues. Every day is a day in Itself and you just try to figure out what the new obstacle is I have to overcome,” she laughed and then I could feel a smile cross her face. “He's cute, though, so cute. It's fascinating to see him regurgitate what he’s been learning this last year and half. Incredible!
“He has quite a few words, but still has trouble trying to communicate everything he wants because he gets impatient. My mother's been using sign language with him,” she added.
“Really?” I said.
“Yeah. He has this one sign where he pats his belly with both hands and it means ‘help me.’ When he forgets the word he’s supposed to use, he’ll start patting his belly,” she said, laughing happily. “And I say, ‘You want me to help you?’ He laughs and points to what he wants. He’s thrilled when I get it. ‘She's not so stupid after all.’” She bursts into laughter.
“Sign language is great for kids during language development,” I commented. “It makes it easier for them to communicate.”
“I think the theory’s been around a long time,” Renee said. “Other mothers I've spoken to who haven’t read about baby sign language, they say their children have been signing and communicating their own version of what something represents to them. Whereas this is initiated by the parents so everyone knows what each sign is going to be.”
Now I came up with a question that stunned Renee. “Were you a contestant on The Price is Right?” I asked impishly.
“Yes,” she said, flabbergasted. “How did you know?!”
“A fan found a copy of it on tape,” I explained.
“You’re kidding me! How did they find that? Did someone tape every episode of that game show?” She still couldn't believe it.
“How did you wind up on the show?” I asked.
“I was about 18,” she began. “I'd just moved to LA and a friend who lived in Boston decided to come out for a visit. She was dying to get on Price. I was like, ‘Okaaaaaay.’ So we stood in line and the next thing I knew they called me down to the stage. Eventually, I was lucky enough to guess the price of a wooden chest. I had no clue about anything,” Renee said, laughing at the naive young girl she was back then. “I went through every stage and did so poorly, but I made it to the end, to the Showcase Showdown. And then I overbid and the other person bet $1 and won. So I went home with a wooden chest that I still have. It's in my son's room.”
“You still have it?” I was astounded. “Is it just a plain wooden chest?”
“It's a really nice heavy wooden chest. I remember going after it at the time and I was terrified about having to pay taxes,” she said, laughing freely. “I'd like to know how anyone knew to look for me on that show. If you find out how they got it, let me know.”
“Will do,” I promised. So, if you’re the one who found Renee on The Price Is Right, drop me a note.