Tip It! (4 page)

My other dear friend Rae, with her thin waist also.

I’ll only say I’m in the middle girls’ row, with ugly bangs.

I ditched one day.

I don’t know what I was thinking, but these two girls convinced me to, and they were pretty daring kids. It sounded like a good idea at the time. The three of us went into downtown Chicago, saw a movie, grabbed a bite to eat, and got milkshakes. [
Maggie Griffin, the original Ferris Bueller.
] And I would have enjoyed it if I hadn’t the whole time been thinking, “When I get home, if the school called my parents, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.”

I could barely pay attention to the movie. I didn’t taste any of the meal we ate. The milkshakes could have been chalk for all I knew. That Catholic guilt’s a killer.

Then we got home, and nothing happened. My parents didn’t know. They never found out, actually. I was safe. I realized that doing something like that wasn’t for me.

But did I brag about it the next day at school?

Maybe!

P
eople ask me if I knew my daughter was going to be in show business, and I say, “Would you think just because your kid likes to sing Barbra Streisand songs and dance around the house that she was going to be famous?” [
It sounds like you’re talking about your gay son, Mom . . . Oh.
]

As a mother, you just don’t know at that stage what’s in store for your child. [
Especially with an “accident baby.”
] Johnny and I never took Kathy to acting lessons or singing lessons. Never even thought of it. Not that we didn’t enjoy her performing for us at home. [
By performing at home, she means hovering over Hamburger Helper while I sang something from
Carousel,
and her shouting “This pah-sta’s getting cold, Kathleen.”
] But the idea that she’d be onstage doing it for a living was beyond our thinking. She was just this cute kid doing what cute kids do. [
Keeping us from eating our food.
] Think about it. If you have boys, they’re probably interested in sports. But do you assume they’re going to play football in the big leagues one day? [
There are days I do think I missed my calling as a running back.
]

Johnny and me with Kathy. Our first Christmas in Los Angeles.

“She’s sure having fun!” we’d say whenever Kathy put on little shows for us.

Did You Know You Were Crushing My Dream?

KATHY:
All right, hold on, Mom. You saw my feverish attempts to entertain people. Why didn’t you put me in pageants?

MAGGIE:
Well, first of all, Kathy, they didn’t have the elaborate ones then like you see now. So you wouldn’t have liked them. You would like what’s on now a lot more.

K:
Excuse me, but you’re reading my future mind? How does that work? Mom, I would have loved any pageant of any kind. Did you know you were crushing my dream?

M:
No, I didn’t, Kathy. [Rolling eyes.] I’m very sorry.

K:
Thank you. I’ve been waiting for that apology for thirty-nine years, or whatever my real age is.

M:
Add ten at least. Anyway, I’m very, very sorry about that. But . . .

K:
Now, have we discussed the Sears and Roebuck charm school? I want to confront you about that.

M:
Oh, okay.

K:
It’s something that is hurtful to me. And once again it’s your fault.

M:
Oh dear Lord . . .

K:
When I was a student at St. Bernardine’s, I believe it was about third grade, there was a speaker who came, which was always a big deal to have at assembly, because my class was only about . . . how many kids?

M:
Small, twenty in a class perhaps. It was a small school.

K:
So they gathered all the girls, the whole class, and we were introduced to a representative from Sears, which I believe still had the Roebuck. They offered charm school once a week, and they were going to teach us how to eat properly, behave, and walk with a book on our head.

M:
Which was great. I thought it was a great idea.

K:
So I then went home and told you I wanted to do it. I believe the fee was twenty dollars a class, and what did you say?

M:
It was . . . I didn’t have the money. It was too expensive.

K:
Too expensive! Twenty dollars a week . . . to make me a
lady
. I can barely get the words out.

M:
Well, Kathy, you have to understand, twenty dollars at that time was a lot of money.

K:
Mother, I don’t know how to walk with a book on my head
to this day
.

M:
Well, I don’t either, but somehow I survived.

K:
Don’t you get it? When you think “charm,” you think Sears and Roebuck.

M:
I know. That comes to my mind, first thing.

K:
And you loved Sears, too. I don’t get it.

M:
I did love Sears. I bought all the kids’ clothes there. I bought mine. I loved the catalogue.

K:
Now, do you remember a certain item that we
did
get from Sears that maybe caused you a little embarrassment?

M:
Oh yes I do. [Laughing] The wig.

K:
If you recall, my dream was to be Barbara Hershey, who then went as Barbara Seagull because she was like a beautiful bird in touch with nature. My dream was to not be me, but to be dark-skinned with very long stick-straight hair like a Manson family member.

M:
Yes, I remember.

K:
Now, there was a wig in the Sears catalogue that was going to help make my dream come true. It was going to be part of my pre-op for turning into Barbara Seagull. Did you get me that wig from the catalogue, or did I get it?

M:
No, no, I got it. Boy, did I get it.

K:
Do you remember how much it was?

M:
It was . . . I don’t think it was more than ten bucks.

K:
It was four. Four dollars.

M:
Four dollars? Oh my gosh.

K:
What I discovered was that it was called a fall, which means it would cover only part of your hair. I didn’t know this.

M:
Really, it was pathetic. But you thought it was beautiful. It was kind of okay from the front. But the back, there was hardly any hair . . .

K:
The front was wiry red hair, and the back was long straight brown hair.

M:
It was . . . look, you thought it was beautiful. Well, one Sunday, Johnny and I got up and Kathy wasn’t around. We wondered, where is she? Now, in those days you didn’t think too much about kids. Then you came home and walked in the door and I almost died. You had that wig on, you had put a little makeup on . . .

K:
And gone to St. Bernardine’s . . .

M:
To the nine a.m. mass.

K:
Which, by the way, was the only time I’ve ever volunteered to go to early mass in my life.

M:
Well, I couldn’t help it. You were so proud of yourself. You said, “Everybody was looking at me.” I’ll bet they were. I was in hysterics. I was laughing.

K:
But Mother, everyone was looking at me because I was beautiful.

M:
Kathy, everyone was looking at you ’cause they were saying, “What was wrong with Marge that she let her kid out like that?” Everyone who saw it thought it was hysterical.

K:
Jealous. You mean jealous.

M:
Of course, Johnny and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. We told you, “Oh you do look nice” and all that. But you were not going to wear that thing again.

K:
Um, translation, Mom. “What the Christ were you doing wearing that in church?” You know you said that.

M:
I might have. But I thought it was funny. At least I wasn’t mad.

K:
That is true. But would you say that’s the first time I officially shamed the family?

M:
Yes. That was the first time.

K:
By the way, what exactly do you think our family legacy or name signifies, compared to, oh, say, the Rockefellers or the Du Ponts?

M:
[Pause] Well, in our parish, we were considered kind of okay.

K:
The wig didn’t help?

M:
The wig didn’t help.

I’m guessing what probably put Kathy in mind to go into showbiz was seeing her oldest brother, Kenny, be in a band, and get a lead role in a Chicago production of the musical
Hair.
Kenny used to perform every summer in a place called Saugatuck, Michigan, at a big restaurant/nightclub. It was the cutest place, like Cape Cod, and he convinced us to rent a cottage there, so we’d take Kathy and her brother John—Gary and Joyce were too old for these vacations, they were already off doing their own thing—and the kids just loved it. [
In between rolling around on the floor trying to beat the crap out of each other.
] They’d watch rehearsals, then we’d see the band perform, and it was pretty exciting for little Kathy.

One summer, when Kathy was maybe twelve, we went to a place called Nippersink Manor in Genoa City, Wisconsin, a really lovely resort that had great meals, entertainment for kids, a golf course, and a nice lake. [
Okay, the real story is that it was a place that catered to a Jewish clientele, which made Mom extra excited because she’s all about the food. Let’s cut the crap: that staff isn’t gonna mess with a banquet hall filled with round tables of pissed-off yentas. I believe we were the only gentiles there. However, I can’t confirm that the term “gentile” even exists anymore.
] The thing about Nippersink was, every so often they’d have a talent show for kids up to ages sixteen or seventeen, and we happened to be there for one of those productions. One night Johnny and I were sitting at one of the big tables where you share your meals with other guests, and the kids’ talent show started. [
Kind of like a Jewish
Showtime at the Apollo.
Can I get a “what what”?
] Well, they’re bringing out all these adorable children to perform, and suddenly the announcer says, “And here we have a little girl with a big voice, and she’s gonna sing for you: Kathy Griffin!”

Johnny and I almost died! We looked at each other and said, “Oh my GOD!”

This was a smallish theater we were in, but boy did it suddenly seem very, very large. I started to sweat. Would she be any good? All these people from the resort are here! It’s one thing to sing and act and dance for us in the house, but this was completely different. [
None of these people were having Hamburger Helper.
]

It barely registered that she was suddenly talking to us. “Hi, Mom and Dad! I’ll bet you’re surprised, aren’t ya?” Everyone started to laugh and clap.

That’s when this friendly couple next to us who we’d eaten a few meals with told us their secret. Kathy had clued them in to her little scheme. “You know, I knew and I wanted to tell ya, because I thought you should know,” the lady said. “But I knew she’d be mad at me.”

That sounds like Kathy. [
As Claus von Bülow would later famously say, “You have no idea.”
]

Well, Kathy started to sing this Carly Simon song [
actually
Roberta Flack, Mom—oh, same dif
], ’cause she was a big fan of hers, probably from sneaking into Joyce’s room and playing her records. And Kathy was wonderful! You might not know this about Kathy, but she had this beautiful singing voice [
and is similar to
Roberta Flack in many ways
], and she sounded great. But she was also so cute up there, all giggly and everything, not wearing a lick of makeup [
as opposed to my current signature tranny face paint
], and she waved to us as she walked off the stage. What struck me, though, was how at home she looked up there. I couldn’t believe how self-assured she was when she came out to perform.

On top of that, she won an award! That was a real treat, and a big thrill for us as parents. And I’ll bet that’s what got Kathy to thinking she might want to do this for a living.

[
Okay, the deal was, I came in second. Not first. Second. Making me officially on the D-list at a freaking resort in Genoa City, Wisconsin. Holla!
]

Johnny and I, meanwhile, still didn’t think it was anything but a hobby. We didn’t take it seriously because I’d seen what Kenny had gone through with his band, making money sometimes, other times not. Real up and down, up and down. Even when Kathy pursued theater in high school and started getting leads in the shows, I still kept wondering what she was going to do with herself after she graduated. There she’d be in that real cute Jewish musical
Fiddler on the
Roof,
playing the part of Hodel, the nice young daughter who angers her traditional dad by leaving the family to get married, and I’m sitting there crying, thinking that that’s what Kathy would do. Little did I know, it’d be showbiz that would woo her, not a man! [
Don’t worry, Mom. Plenty of busboys and barbacks would go on to screw me over in my lifetime.
]

Then again, Kathy didn’t have to leave us at all to pursue her dream. In fact, we’re the ones who left Chicago when Johnny decided to retire, and it was Kathy—still newly graduated from high school—who tagged along with us. You know why? Because we were headed to California, and as our oldest, Kenny, told us—because he was out there already—it’s where Kathy should be. We didn’t even need to ask Kathy if she wanted to move out with us. “You guys are going to California?” she told us. “Then that’s where I’m going!”

Can We Get a Little More Truth in Here, Mom?

KATHY:
Okay, hold it. Can we get a little more truth in here, Mom?

MAGGIE:
What truth?