Then Again - Diane Keaton [30]
Stardom never became a nightmare, but it wasn’t what I thought it would be. How can you think a dream? Not even Dale Carnegie could do that. As I closed DIANE KEATON, a Time magazine with “A Comic Genius: Woody Allen Comes of Age” on the cover fell out, along with a newspaper article featuring a picture of her holding on to Dad’s arm. The caption read, “Parents of actress Diane Keaton are not averse to discussing her.” The article went on to say, “Mrs. Hall, a stately, well-dressed woman who lets her husband do the talking when it comes to business, is more than glad to talk about her daughter, Diane. ‘It isn’t just Diane who is in the limelight, Jack and I are sharing in the glow too. It’s been the most exciting time of my life. Everywhere we go with Diane we’re mobbed.’ ” Mobbed? I’ve never been mobbed. Ever. Did Mother know what she was saying? Did she even say it?
Was it worth it? Did spending so many hours cutting and pasting the story of budding actress Diane Keaton—not Hall—ever feel like a waste of time? Why was Mother so engrossed with the process of validating my life? It’s hard to know what to make of the parade of boring articles, interchangeable photographs, and pre-language quotes from me, like “Gee, I’m just so honored to even meet Betty Ford” and “Oh, yeah, sure … I loved the Martha Graham dance recital. Woody and I are both taking lessons with her company. It’s so much fun.” Didn’t Mom feel embarrassed for me? Did she think cutting pictures into smaller squares and rectangles would be a different kind of healing? Was it numbing and nice? Was it a reassuring if abstract way to reflect on the joys of the past?
Our story, Mother’s and mine, will always and forever lie hidden in a past that can’t be untangled by looking through a parade of clippings recording the journey of a young woman who became Annie Hall.
December 31, 1969
I always say my life is this family, and that’s the truth. Today was no exception. Dorrie pushed all of us to get up and take a bike ride to Baskin and Robbins, just like last year. It was so much fun. It’s true when they say it’s the little things that matter.
I have assessed my happiness ratio and this is the result. I am totally content whenever the ones I love are happy about something little, big, insignificant, whatever. I just don’t think anyone could possibly have the same wonderful, intense, compelling feelings that I have for this family of mine.
Jack asked me if it was a good day—the last one of the year—and I have to say it was. We tried to get tickets to see True Grit but couldn’t, so Jack, Randy, Robin, Dorrie, and I went out to eat at Marsé Restaurant and then came home to watch Dick Clark ring the New Year in. “1969 was a BIG year, huh, Dad?” “Sure, Dorrie, sure.” I hope the same will be said of 1970.
5
THE LIST
Jane Fonda. Ally Sheedy. Joan Rivers. Paula Abdul. Lindsay Lohan. Sally Field. Princess Diana. Anne Sexton. Karen Carpenter. Anna Freud. Mariel Hemingway. Audrey Hepburn. Portia de Rossi. Meredith Vieira. Victoria Beckham. Kelly Clarkson. Felicity Huffman. Mary Kate Olsen. Catherine Oxenberg. Sharon Osbourne.
Sally Field and I are the same age. We’re both actresses. We live and work in Los Angeles. That’s where the similarities end, or so I thought. I’ve met Joan Rivers, Lindsay Lohan, Felicity Huffman, and even Audrey Hepburn. It didn’t seem like we had much in common. I remember when Meredith Vieira interviewed me for The View. She was the kind of assured professional I admired. It’s hard to believe we suffered from a mutual obsession. How is it possible I share a mutual past with Mary Kate Olsen, a person