He Saw, She Saw

Chapter 1

(What She Saw)

I could tell you my name, but you wouldn’t recognize it. There is a chance you will recognize one of the names I used to go by. You might have seen one of those names on the cover of a tabloid as you stood in line at the supermarket.

I would wish that I could have avoided the events that got those names in print, but then I wouldn’t have the name I have now. And I love the name I have.

My names were Lola Fredrickson and Marion the Movie Librarian. Lola is the name my parents gave me when I was born twenty-eight years ago in a small city in northern California. That city’s name is Petaluma, and if you want an idea of its glamour quotient, it’s famous for its poultry and annual arm wrestling competition.

I am the youngest of five children, and I grew up in a happy, healthy Christian home. My parents took us to church every Sunday and Disneyland every year. I did well in school and had a mean serve on my junior high and senior high volleyball teams, if I do say so myself.

But my chief interest, my great love during those years, was drama. From the time I was five years old, I told everyone who would listen that someday I was going to Hollywood, and I was going to be a Movie Star.

After graduating from high school, I wanted to go straight to an agent and auditions, but my parents insisted I go to a Christian college. I majored in drama and minored in English at a Christian college in Southern California. I also went to every studio audience taping and movie screening I could squeeze into my schedule. But I also dove into the drama program. The first two years I took bit parts in the plays and worked on the stage crew. But in the last two years of college I had some wonderful roles. I played Ophelia, Annie Sullivan, Cleopatra and what turned out to be a prophetic role, Marion the Librarian in The Music Man.

I even got a role on a TV series. OK, it was a reality show and only for one episode. Maybe you’ve seen the show, Darling Daters, where a couple is set up on a blind date, just the boy, the girl and the film crew.

They set me up with a horn-dog who wanted to go into every bar and kept hinting about the hot tub that was to come. His name was Roy, and he was astounded that I wouldn’t drink. The only thing I enjoyed the whole evening was how it ended. I poured a pitcher of water on his head when he made one crude suggestion too many. The show still runs that bit on the opening credits.

When the show ran, the producers announced time and time again on the screen crawl that I was a virgin. They even played tape of me reciting Hebrews 13: 4, Marriage should be honored by all and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral. The producers of the show apparently found the verse hysterical.

After graduating from college, I put my all into searching for a career on the big or small screen. It seemed the only roles I was offered were for low-budget horror films in which I would be called on to scream, strip and die. I turned those roles down. But I couldn’t find anything else.

I made ends meet with the great cliché of waiting tables. I started in a trucker’s dive and worked my way up to a chic spot for movers and shakers in Beverly Hills. But it wasn’t there where I got my break.

I was really depressed when I lost my job at Chez Palette in Beverly Hills. There was an audition for a recurring role on a sitcom. I couldn’t get anyone to cover my shift, but I decided to audition anyway. I didn’t get the part, and when I went back to the restaurant I found I didn’t have a job either.

Then I got a job at a Denny’s across the street from Disneyland. It was summer and though the pay was not nearly as good as my previous gig, I did at least get to see fireworks every night. And that was where I got my big break.

I worked overtime and extra shifts, so I didn’t have time to work on my craft. So I decided to work on my acting at work. Instead of going to work as California Lola, I went in as Toula, an exchange student from Greece. Or as Helga, a militant feminist. For a week I was Gina, the daughter of a French Ambassador. I created histories for my characters, and worked up hair and make-up to match.

One day I was feeling nostalgic for my days of college drama when parts were ripe for the picking. So I came in to work as Marion the Librarian. I put my blonde hair up in a tight bun. I wore granny glasses and a minimum of make-up. And I put on the prissiest of personas.

That night at work, when a customer made an off-color remark, I gave a wilting stare. I corrected a child’s grammar when he ordered. I guess I really crossed the line when I went into a rant to guests about how sad it was that Americans could name all of the seven dwarfs, but couldn’t name any Shakespearean characters beside Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet.

My manager, Tito, gave me a talking to. Lola, I don’t mind when you do this silly thing with customers when you are nice. But tonight you are not being so nice and this must stop.

After Tito’s speech I resolved to be a good girl. Then a customer approached me.

Excuse me, a short man with hair in a ponytail said, My name’s Marty Frum. Have you ever thought of being on TV?

Chapter 2

(What She Saw)

On my break, I met with Marty. He introduced me to an older woman by the name of Linda Steele. Her short hair was a lovely shade of grey and her suit was wonderfully tailored.

It’s good to meet you, Marion. Marty and I produce a local morning show, ‘Rise and Shine, Southland,’ Linda said. Perhaps you’re heard of it?

I had heard of it, I assured her, which I had. But it was really indistinguishable in my mind from all the other morning talk shows.

We’re looking to begin a new segment, she continued, Reviewing movies for mothers. We’ve heard from our focus groups that parents continue to be concerned about the sex and violence in films. The rating system just doesn’t provide all they need to know.

Marion, Marty added. We think you have the look and the attitude that parents will trust. I’m thinking we could call the section, ‘Movie Morality with Marion’.

I should tell you, I began hesitantly, My name isn’t really Marion; it’s Lola. And this isn’t usually the way I look.

We’ll set up a screen test, Marty said. And if all goes well, you’ll be using the name Marion and have this look for years to come.

To be honest, I had been on the verge of giving up on my dreams. I had been about ready to pack up and go home. That day I remembered God’s promise in Jeremiah 29:11, ‘For I know the plans I have for you’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’

‘Movie Morality with Marion’ began as a once a week segment. Every week I would review three movies. I’d warn about things in the films that people might find offensive. Then I’d rate the movie with ‘Tut’s. If the film contained nothing offensive, something like Barney Bunny’s Springtime Adventure, I would rate it ‘No tuts’ (this was rare). Something like Zombie Rampage would rate a ‘Tut, tut, tut, tut’ and a skull and crossbones. Most films were something in between.

For a time I kept my job at Denny’s. The segments proved so popular that I was soon doing segments three times a week and then five days a week. The segment’s name changed to ‘Media Morality with Marion’ and I reviewed TV, magazines and children’s books along with movies and DVDs.

Initially, it was exciting to go into the make-up room at 5 AM and set up for the sets and the lighting. But after a while it all became routine.

My life settled into a routine. I woke up early in the morning to go to the studio to film my segment. Sometimes the hosts, Susanne Esquivel and Karl Tucker, would call me to the couch to discuss an issue of the day. At all times I stayed in character as Marion. I was prim and proper and very stern when talking about celebrity affairs or the latest violent video game.

Then I would tape promos for the show and occasionally conduct interviews with B or C level celebrities about their upcoming projects. I would answer my mail. Some of the letters could quite properly be called fan mail, thanking me for helping guide children through the maze of filth in the media. But some of my mail was down right hateful. Letters called me a prude, a kill-joy and, quite often, names that would never cross the lips of such a refined woman as Marion. I answered them all.

In the afternoons I would go to advance screenings of films for critics and occasionally go to regular theaters to see the films that studios wouldn’t screen to critics in advance (usually for very good reasons.)

Then I went to the gym for my aerobics class and time on the weight machines and in the pool. Afterward, I’d head home, picking up a to-go dinner at the supermarket or calling out for Chinese, salad or the occasional pizza. Then I would read trade journals and watch the TV shows I had taped or TiVoed for review. I was in bed at eight, nine at the latest on work nights. Saturdays I slept a little later, but the rest of the day I watched more TV and movies and wrote a little column I had in a woman’s magazine.

That was my life, aside from going to church on Sundays. That was the one place I still went as Lola. But I went to a mega church and sat in the back and really didn’t know many people there by name.

I kept pretty busy and suddenly I realized years had gone by. It really sank in when I went to see a silly, romantic comedy called More Than a Friend. It was utterly predictable, but I had a good time. It had a cute young starlet falling in love with a slightly older leading man. Complications ensue when she mistakes his sister for his wife and he thinks she’s in love with her boss.

The film was almost profanity free and though there were hints the couple might have slept together, it was never quite clear what had happened. It was violence free and there were no blatant sexual situations. When the character Billy proposed to the character Meg at the end of the film, I found myself tearing up.

When I got home I ordered out for a garlic chicken personal pizza and after finishing it up I ate a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, all the time imaging Marty and Linda’s disapproving lectures if they knew what I was eating. (If I had a dime for every time I heard ‘The camera adds ten pounds’… well, there would be quite the march of dimes.)

Suddenly, I broke down in tears.

I told myself it was silly. What did I have to cry about? I had what I had always dreamed of having. I was a star, of a kind, on TV. I was making good money. I was paid to read, go to the movies and watch TV. How could I complain about the life I had?

But I knew why I was crying. I had much of what I wanted. But I had no one to share it with. I was alone. Genesis 2:18 came to mind. It is not good for man to be alone. Woman either, I’d like to add. So I let God know I was not happy being alone anymore. Now I know that at that very time, both Linda and Marty were working to change that. Soon I would have as many men in my life as I had names.

Chapter 3

(What She Saw)

After the show on the next Monday, Phil, one of the technicians, gave me my weekly videos. It was a little thing I had written into my last contract to have everything I do put on video. Then I send it to my parents. My parents still use the VCR and have never switched to DVDs. They only use their computer for e-mail, and they just recently switched to cable from their roof antenna, but they couldn’t get our L.A. station in their home.

Linda saw me putting the videos in my purse and asked, How would you like all your friends and family to be able to watch you? How would you like people all over the country to be able to watch you every week?

What are you talking about?

We have an opportunity of a lifetime, Lola, Linda said. In front of the crew and the public, Linda always calls me Marion. In private, and especially when she’s asking for something, she calls me Lola. How would you like to be on a nationally syndicated movie review show?

Are you serious? I asked. A show of my own?

I’m serious, but it wouldn’t be your own show, she said. It’ll be a half hour movie review show and you will have a co-host.

I was stunned by this opportunity coming