I'll Scream Later (No Series) (33 page)

N
OT LONG AGO
, I took Fabian on a tour of my old neighborhood.

Our house in Morton Grove, Illinois, where so many of my memories were made, looked smaller somehow. The trees, newly planted when my family first moved in, are towering now. Kids still play football and baseball in the street.

It brought back a wave of memories—meeting Liz, playing Dorothy in
The Wizard of Oz
at seven, meeting Henry, falling in love with Mike, fights with my mom, seeing the world open up with closed-captioning, slipping into another world of drugs and addiction, being cast in
Children of a Lesser God,
leaving my childhood and my family for New York, then L.A., all the characters that have come into my life, all the opportunities, the challenges, building a family of my own.

I have traveled so many miles and done so many things that I never dreamed I would do in the years since I left Morton Grove. Like the house, I am both the same and different now.

One thing that hasn’t changed, I want to experience as much of life as I can, pile up moments—good and bad—as if there were no tomorrow. No stopping, no regrets.

I have been given an extraordinary life thus far, and I am nowhere close to done with it yet.

Every day brings new challenges, creative juices that keep churning inside me, characters whose lives and whose stories I want to tell, new chapters to write.

No matter what I do next in my career, acting will always be my first choice, my first love.

I think back to the time I stood on a stage when I was seven and began telling a story through sign and movement and felt the applause and saw the smiles. That moment—that connection—touched something deep inside me, a hunger that will never go away.

And though I am Deaf, it is not as if I live in silence. Thousands of thoughts are always buzzing around in my head.

That’s what defines a life, or at least my life—emotions, feelings, ideas—having them, but also sharing them.

Telling my children I love them each day. Calling Liz or Ruthie or Jack or another friend to share a funny moment. Walking on a warm summer evening hand in hand with my husband. Seeing my
brothers and their families, my parents or Kevin’s, who’ve become like my own second family.

As I look at my life, one of my greatest challenges has been my relationship with my mother. I know, without question, that both of my parents absolutely love me. I’ve never doubted that, and it is the best gift that any parent can give his or her child.

But I also look back and search my mind and my heart for the moments with my mom that are not colored by the fights that have dogged us for a lifetime. In the distance I see myself as a child sick with the flu, spending the day under the covers with a fever and my mom bringing hot soup to my bed. Driving me through a snowstorm to see Liz. My mom always in the audience at the theaters of my life, applauding but fearful it will all go up in smoke and a little envious that she didn’t get cast in the starring role.

I have a handful of faded memories like that—both sweet and sad.

I look at the wall that I see separating us, my mother and me, and wonder if maybe it was my first and most important lesson in life: to face that wall and not back down. To find my way despite it—push through it, jump over it, run around it—so that all the other walls that I would face afterward would never seem insurmountable.

In recent years, I’ve tried to get to a place where I simply accept that the closeness I’ve wished a lifetime for with my mom is probably beyond us now. She and my dad are both growing older and are not all that well.

Many of the things that used to send me spinning into anger, I just set aside these days. Instead I try to focus on the love that is there and believe that she is giving me all that she can. And I try to make sure both my parents know how much I love them, how much they mean to me.

My life is rich and I am blessed, and I am grateful. That I am Deaf is just a footnote. It is a part of who I am, but far from all of who I am.

And the dark secrets that I kept locked away in my heart for all those many years are now out in the open.

Today, I can face those old wounds head-on. I know they cannot defeat me—the drugs, the babysitter, the teacher, the actor, the deafness, and the rest. I am stronger than all of it.

Looking into all those dark corners has been a little like giving birth—despite much pain, if you breathe and let yourself embrace it, absorb it, you’ll come through to the other side and the payoff is spectacular.

So I find myself now, not at the end of my story, but at the beginning of a new story, and I can’t wait to see what life has in store for me. Bring it on…I’m ready.

T
HIS BOOK HAS
been forty-three years in the making. For me it was about telling the truth. My truth. It was just time. And though I strived to tell the truth about myself, there are so many people I must thank because I couldn’t have done it without them.

Betsy Sharkey—thank you for your brilliance. This absolutely could not have happened without you. When can we start on the sequel? Kidding!

Jack Jason—you came into my life at the perfect time and I can’t imagine what I would have done without you. Thanks for believing in me. Thanks for putting up with me. You are simply a saint. I know I would
not
be where I am today without you.
No pork!

To my agent Alan Nevins—thank you for all you’ve done. Your encouragement, your nagging, your words of wisdom. You rock!

To Jen Bergstrom and Tricia Boczkowski at Simon Spotlight Entertainment—you’ve made writing this book a breeze; the best publisher and editor ever.

Evelyn Caldwell—I bow to you. Thank you for looking out for me everyday when it comes to my piggy bank.

Carol Bruckner—what can I say but thank you CWAA? You are the only person who can swear better than me but make it sound more palatable. I heart you.

Steve LaManna and the crew at Innovative—good show. Thank you for keeping my dream alive.

Howard Bragman, Brad Cafarelli, and Lisa Perkins—thanks for twenty years’ worth of fifteen minutes. You guys give the best PR.

To Mom and Dad—how could I be anything but a Matlin? I love and am proud to be your daughter. For all your patience in all that I put you through, I love you.

To Eric, Glo, Zach, and Arielle—nobody could ask for a better family. Thank you for all your love and support over the years.

Marc and Jay—I’ve kept a secret all these years: Apples was Catholic. I love you so much.

Lynne Smith—I love you and the whole family.

Samuel Block—thank you for introducing me to the wonderful world of Sign Language.

Liz Tannebaum—you are my sister. I love you.

Mike Lundquist—I will always cherish the good times together.

Bob Michaels—if only…oh, never mind!

Patricia Scherer—I couldn’t have been Dorothy without you. Thank you for all you do for Deaf children everywhere and their dreams.

Henry Winkler—thank you for helping me to follow my dream. I love you.

Stacey Winkler—I promise I’ll clean my room tomorrow. I love you, too.

Sister Mary Elizabeth Endee—you were the best teacher ever.

William Hurt—despite the good times and the tough times, I could not be where I am without having known you.

Randa Haines—you never let me give up. Thank you.

Christine Vericker and Betty Ford—what can I say but that you saved my life. Thank you.

Ruthie McCrary—my soul sister forever—Maa-Ruu rules!

Wendy, Mark A., Barb, Amy M., Danielle, and Cyrani—ILY.

Stephanie Matlow—thank you for introducing me to Los Angeles.

Carla Hacken—I’d laugh very hard if you became my agent again.

Jann Goldsby—I owe you sushi many times over—cranberry!

Bill Pugin—if I could put in words that face we always make together, I would! You are the best!

David E. Kelley—that’s mine!

Barbara and Tim Stehr—good thing Tim doesn’t look exactly like Kevin!

Charlotte and Dan Culpepper—you are both a Godsend. I couldn’t be in two places at once if it weren’t for you. ILY.

Benny Jason—thank you for Jack and all the scrapbooks you collected over twenty-three years. Hugs!

JB—what a feeling. I love you.

Fabian—
serra siempre mi musica!

Mary and Phil—you are both lifesavers. Your carpooling is the best!

Angie Warner—a new friend with an old soul and the best tour manager ever. I only wish I could play the guitar and sing like a rock star so we could hang out more.

BPD—always be safe.

Dr. Robert Gallo and Michael Schwartz—thank you for your invaluable input.

Dr. Miser and the staff at City of Hope—thank you for saving our Sarah’s life.

My Sarah, Brandon, Tyler, and Isabelle—you are my light and my loves. Thank you for being patient with me, whether I was right here with you or working half a world away.

And finally, to my better half, my husband Kevin—I can’t imagine life without you. As father, husband, and best friend, no one compares to you. I love you forever.

One of the rare early photos of my dad’s parents: Grandpa Ed and Grandma Ann.

The only picture I’ve ever seen of my parents Libby and Don Matlin’s wedding, unearthed as I was writing this book.

One of the earliest pictures I have of my mother accompanied by her lovely note to my dad.

I love this picture of my Grandmother Rose and her salamis. I’m glad they’re kosher!

Everyone says that I drive very fast and as you can see, I started very early!

Growing up, I loved all our family pets but Eric’s dog Solo held a special place in my heart.

This is my favorite picture of my dad, taken when I was four. You can see the hearing aid in my ear, which my dad told me to tell everyone was just a big glob of bubblegum.

“I am Dorothy!”—my stage debut at eight years old in the
Wizard of Oz
at the Center on Deafness.

One of the moments that changed my life: me and my best friend Liz with wonderful Henry Winkler at the Center on Deafness.

From my personal pictures from
Children of a Lesser God
: This is the moment where director Randa Haines asked me to improvise in sign what a wave sounded like.

The pool scene from
Children of a Lesser God
looks like love but it wasn’t that easy. I remember very clearly Bill and me fighting during this scene.
(Credit: © Paramount Pictures, all rights reserved)

I wasn’t sure how Bill would react to my Oscar win but he was very sweet and sincere.
(Credit: © Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences)