One of the reasons I'm so proud of my mother is she took her skills of over a 40 years photographic career and translated that to a film.
Between 1958 and 1963, I sold about 40 million records - to the shock of my mother and father because I was always playing Beethoven. But I bought my mother a mink stole. She was very happy, and she said, 'I think this is better than Beethoven.'
Every interview I've done since I've turned 40, the journalist will say, 'So, isn't it amazing? Your career should be over, but you're still working. Why do you think you have found a career at a time when a lot of women are slowing down?'
I had spent my childhood and the better part of my early adulthood trying to understand my mother. She had been an extraordinarily difficult person, spiteful and full of rage, with a temper that could flare, seemingly out of nowhere, scorching everything and everyone who got in its way. [pp. 40-41]
I've had dialogues with my dead mother over the 40 years since she died.
But in that moment when my brother took the field, all that washed away, and everyone was proud... I looked up at my dad, and he was smiling. I looked at my mom, and she was smiling even though she was nervous about my brother getting hurt, which was strange because it was a VCR tape of an old game, and she knew he didn't get hurt.
She was a wonderful mother. She was my best friend. Same for my brother. And it's funny because we didn't grow up in Hollywood. You know, once she decided that she needed to be a mother, she really gave up her career.
No matter what set she's been on over the last 12 years, my mother always finds a way to get in the way. Not in a bad way. Like, she once got caught on a law show I did called 'Philly' trying to take a picture - she was caught on-camera in the background. She does things like this.
I sent my daughter 40 roses last November because I thought she was 40. And she laughed her head off. She is not going to be 40 until this year!
My mother was a full-time mother. She didn't have much of her own career, her own life, her own experiences... everything was for her children. I will never be as good a mother as she was. She was just grace incarnate. She was the most generous, loving - she's better than me.
I do have health insurance (don't fine me, [Barack] Obama!). And while we agree that career is important, my mother has an AOL email address and shares articles she finds interesting on Facebook by screen shotting and posting a picture of them. So, if mother doesn't understand links, she's not going to understand what I do for a living. I'm confident in my current career trajectory, so this will be another Mother's Day disappointment.
If you rode to my mother's house, it's still a two-bedroom house, one floor. She still drives the same Toyota Corolla that she drove for the last three years and is still trying to meet ends. So for them to say I received $30,000 or whatever the case is, I definitely don't think that's enough to sell out myself and my family.
I honestly feel that "Murder, She Wrote" stands alone, as many of the other great shows of the past 35, 40 years do. It stands alone, and it's still on. It's still all over the world, "Murder, She Wrote," Jessica Fletcher and "Murder, She Wrote."
To lose my mother just as I'm right on the brink of crossing that threshold over into a career, it was pretty compelling. My entire career is my mother's work, for me.
My mother dedicated over fifty years of her life to the nursing profession, giving selflessly of her time, energy, and passion for the benefit of others. I always marvel at what an indelible and honorable contribution she has made and hope to be able to make a similar impact over the course of my life and career.
Boyhood proves that there's still good roles for women over 40, as long as you get hired when you're under 40.