My idea of dressing up is scrounging
around in the back of my closet for the one nice dress I own, putting on the necklace
and matching earrings my husband gave me and brushing my teeth.
So it's a bit odd that I absolutely
adore watching the glitzy Oscars. From the time I was a young girl, I've been
glued to the television on Oscar night. I always sat on the couch next to my
mom where she'd deliver a running commentary on the lives of all the stars.
"Oh, there's Liz," she'd
say, spotting Elizabeth Taylor in the crowd.
I was mesmerized by this dazzling
movie star who traded husbands like I trade in my sneakers. Even on our RCA black-and-white
television, there was no downplaying Liz's vibrant smile and the star quality
of those bigger-than-life actors and actresses.
I distinctly remember the year
"The Sound of Music" was up for Best Picture. My mom played that
vinyl record constantly, and I knew the words to "My Favorite Things"
and "Do-Re-Me" within a week. My mom and I were both rooting for our
favorite movie to walk away with the Oscar, which it did.
Nineteen sixty-eight was a turning
point for the Oscars with controversial films like "In the Heat of the
Night," "The Graduate" and "Guess Who's Coming to
Dinner" up for major awards.
My mom didn't care about the controversy,
and neither did I. We were simply hoping for a glimpse of one of our favorite
stars, Paul Newman, because he was up for Best Actor for his role in "Cool
Hand Luke."
Between wondering if Liz was happy,
if Paul's eyes were really that blue and if Cary Grant was as debonair in real
life as he was on the screen, my mom and I critiqued the writers, the musicians,
the costumes and the make-up artists.
One of the last years I watched the
Academy Awards with my mom was my senior year in high school. When 1972 rolled
around, quite a few things had changed – the country was in an uproar over the
Viet Nam War and my friends were burning their bras.
I was anxious to start my own life
and, like many teens, I wanted to get out of the house and pretend to be an
independent nomad.
But on that last Oscar night we
spent together on our plaid couch, Mom and I went right back to my childhood, keeping
our fingers crossed under the afghan, hoping Topol would win the award for Best
Actor for his role as Tevye in "Fiddler on the Roof."
That movie reflected so many events
that were happening in our family, and, to this day, "Fiddler on the
Roof" remains an Hebert family classic. My mom made sure all of her
children received a cassette tape of "Fiddler on the Roof" to listen
to in our cars and we all own a copy of the movie.
When we moved to Texas, Mom and I
couldn't be physically together for the Oscars, but we always discussed the categories
in depth prior to the show, and this year's Oscar was no exception.
Every year, when I sit down on our couch and
cover up with an afghan my mom crocheted, I know that without our traditions –
as simple as watching the Oscars and dreaming about Paul Newman – our lives
would be as shaky as a fiddler on the roof.
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