I called my mom. Mother Lydia was the antithesis of everyone I knew in Hollywood. If I couldn’t get absolution I knew calling her would result in a strong dose of disapproval, an advised course correction, and a grudging glimmer of hope. First of all, as a school superintendent, she didn’t approve of me dropping out of college, she didn’t approve of my lifestyle; and she certainly didn’t approve of my soon to be ex-husband who she called a dissolute charmer. She often mentioned he had bad blood and that if it weren’t for his good looks he probably would have ended up a goodfella.
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