I can feel Jane Fonda’s
weirdness in me. Meaning
I can relate to her fairly
omnipresent fish out of
is water look on her seems
fairly new to me, but thinking
back, it was always there, or
maybe a bit deeper beneath the
surface usually. For two years now,
however, I’ve watched interview after
interview that she has given, obsessively —
and they have been relentless, such an
easy thing to obsess over. And they are
so rarely just one-on-one interviews.
They’re not all with Lily Tomlin, either.
It’s during these multiple interviews
that a less apparent side of this diva
of the silver screen and boob tube,
this icon of activism and feminism
and empowerment comes shining
through. I’m talking about the
way she goes about forming
friendships. When Fonda decides
she wants to get close with someone,
it is often even before she literally
meets them. She will see someone
onstage during a performance, or
in an interview on television, and
she will immediately know that this
is someone she wants to know better
It seems instantaneous. And once
she has made up her mind, she
will relentlessly pursue a friendship
with that individual. She will find
a way to make it clear to the person
that she wants to know them. And
then they just cannot rid themselves
of this goal. This may be at first
annoying to the objects of affection,
but it is apparent in interactive
interview after interview that
once that bond is made, it is
wholly mutual. When within a
cadre of friends, it is also clear
that she loves to play the buffoon,
to be the center of attention, to be
the butt of any and all jokes. This
act can get a bit feisty, and all
players in this game seem to
relish it with intensity, while
also managing to defend her
with sincerity and grace to the
very end. This is the characteristic
of the lovely Ms. Fonda to which I
can most especially relate. It is
quite possibly what makes her
infinitely endearing to me as
time passes and she so grace
fully ages (would that, all along,
I were doing that part so well).
This, it turns out, is a quality I
recognize so well, because it
at least used to be one in me,
one in which I’d exercise
unswayingly, sometimes even
to the seeming detriment of my
already well-polished and oft-
present group of close friends.
Like her, I was drawn to folks
who liked to stir up trouble,
so to speak. Who loved to
shake things up or, as some
might call it, make things
interesting. As I sit here,
smiling, however, I cannot
somehow jealously wonder
how significant a part this
quirk that we share played
in the complete obliteration
of my so carefully sought out
and built-up and nurtured and
finessed group of friends. That
seemingly lovely group who
meant the world to me would
be always around, participating
in the great adventure of life
and then, in what at this date
seems like instantaneously,
a mere split-second, say,
they were completely gone,
dispersed, most never to be
seen since. It seems so odd
to repeat but it’s a mystery
that every day since has
befuddled me, and remains
the largest mystery and the
worst nightmare of my
very existence. And I
am not being hyperbolic
in the least. That the
presence of this group
of individuals gave me
such joy, and such reason
to wake up to each morning
now has me wanting to dig
deeper into what I see in
Jane Fonda as this grand
similarity between little
me and internationally
treasured her. But it
becomes a huge
difference, as I watch her
talk about how her
“sisters” are those whom
she says will always have her
back, will be at her side until
the end. So it would seem that
what feels like a very similar
thing that Jane and I share, in
reality, I suppose, I just do not
have it. Something about the
quality of me, which was such
a cornerstone to my everything,
was flawed. Whereas Jane seems
perfect in every way in this depart
ment. Which has me thinking a
thing I do all too often: should I
ever attempt to rebuild myself
a new family like this? Or should
I just give up on that notion?
There are moments when I
see signs that give me hope
for rebuilding such a group,
and I think what a good thing
it might be to give my all to such
an activity again so that I can
do it better than before and
enjoy the fruits of such labors.
However, it does seem to be
an exhausting project to once
again begin, knowing especially
what happened when I thought
once, and for so very long, that
I had really succeeded in such
an ideal undertaking. But I
continue to open my eyes
wide for those positive signs
and will perhaps make my
Jane Fonda moves should
those signs brighten, even
in the slightest, for what
to me is a duration of
any real significance.
