'And in My Bones I Feel the Warmth That's Coming from Inside'

Five year ago, I had the undeniable pleasure of spending Halloween at the Nokia Theater to celebrate the Danny Elfman's scores for Tim Burton's films (which you can read about here). As truly incredible as that night was — with appearances by Danny Elfman, Catherine O'Hara and Tim Burton — it did feel a bit incomplete because my niece and nephew weren't there to enjoy it with me.

Praise be the pop culture gods for giving us second chances! In celebration of "The Nightmare Before Christmas'" 25th (!) anniversary, The Hollywood Bowl hosted three shows with Danny Elfman and other members of the original voice cast joining the Bowl's orchestra to perform all of the film's music live as the film played on jumbo screens. Saturday night, the kids and I were at the Bowl (in the way, way, way, way, way back) to revel in it all.

The Bowl was transformed into Halloweentown for the weekend with games, trick-or-treat stations, photo stations, installations and more featuring beloved characters and scenes from the film. Special projections illuminated the stage throughout the night, interacting with the film and bringing an extra wondrous element. In the audience, people were decked out in homemade "Nightmare" costumes and other Halloween finery, some competing in a costume contest held onstage before the movie started. My family had little foam sheet Zero pins I made to accent our Tim Burton-esque ensembles.

I can't properly estimate how many times I've seen "The Nightmare Before Christmas" over the last 25 years. I remember first seeing it in the theater and going to the revival about five years later. I remember the impact of the music, the story and the little world the figures inhabited. Added to that are all the times I've watched the film with the kids, them memorizing the story and growing so attached to the characters, and how that attachment has spilled out into other parts of our lives, including a growing collection of "Nightmare" pieces that fill a Tim-Burton-themed room, as well as many, many trips to "Sally's House" at Disneyland.

This weekend's viewing had to be the most special thanks to the orchestra, the voice talent (including Danny Elfman, Catherine O'Hara, Paul Reubens and Ken Page), getting to watch it on five giant screens, getting to enjoy it with thousands of other people who love the film as much as I do, getting to enjoy it with the kids.

At the start of the night, I told the kids I'd probably end up crying at some point, the whole experience meaning so much to me. Art gives us so much, it inspires, it comforts, it entertains, it connects. Tim Burton's movies and Danny Elfman's music do all that and so much more. It's hard not to be moved by something so special, particularly when I get to share it with two amazing people. I hope to one day be able to let these two men know how very much I appreciate all they've given us.

It was a long night, though, and I credit the kids for doing their best to make it through the overture, film, intermission, curtain calls and encore. I promised something special would happen if they did, and was so thankful to be proven right. Accompanied by Oingo Boingo guitarist Steve Bartek and No Doubt bassist Tony Kanal, Danny Elfman capped off the night with an orchestra-backed rendition of "Dead Man's Party." What more could we ask for? Just for good measure, Danny Elfman brought Tum Burton out on stage so the two collaborators could enjoy the moment together — the packed house, the costumed audience members, the overwhelming love for the film — and take a quick selfie as the lights came up and it was time for all of us to go home.

To All the Women I've Hurt Before

Nothing's really changed in the way women are being treated in the wake of #metoo, #timesup, the Women's March, the Kavanaugh confirmation farce, the election of our current president, the prosecution of Bill Cosby. What has changed is that issues of harassment, assault and discrimination are being talked about, and dealt with, much more openly. Women are talking publicly, loudly, passionately about experiences that were supposed to kept behind closed doors, that were supposed to be shameful, that were supposed to be forgotten.

As painful and frustrating as this process has been, I'm hopeful that it will all be for the best. I'm also hopeful that this will lead to more hard questions being asked and to more self-reflection being done by both men and women. We have the opportunity to treat each other better, to treat ourselves better. To get there, though, we have to be honest about the ways we've hurt one another in the past. I'm working on it and that's why I'm writing this apology.

Women are constantly played against each other. Andy Cohen would have no empire if we weren't. We're made to believe we have to do this for our survival, that there are only so many spots available for women at any table so we need to fight to the death to secure ours. Why wouldn't we believe it? Listen to the radio — how many female artists do you hear on any given day? Watch TV — how many women have lead roles? Go the movies — how many women are listed in the credits? Look at our government — how many women can you find?

This is the system we live in, the system we sadly perpetuate. So we hold on to whatever scraps we have by criticizing and demeaning other women. We take on the responsibility of policing how other women should act, should speak, should live. We live in constant competition with one another because you never know when some woman is going to come along to take your job, take your friend, take your man. Bitches!

We do this without realizing. I know I have. I know I've been so nasty to other women I knew and didn't know because I thought I had to, because I thought that was the way to stay competitive, to stay tough, to stay ahead. It's not. I've lost far more than I've gained from participating in this toxic system. We all have.

Can we stop? Can we stop foaming at the mouth for catfights? Can we stop with the pointless rivalries? Can we stop raising our eyebrows about another woman's clothing, another woman's voice, another woman's life? Can we stop criticizing how, if or when other women raise children? Can we stop criticizing how, if or when other women work? Can we stop criticizing other women's bodies?

We don't all have to be friends. We don't all have to like each other. We should at least respect each other. We should at least give each other space. I don't automatically side with a woman simply because she's a woman. It's OK to have different opinions, different values. It's not OK to for our gender identities and expressions to cause a division, to be an attack point, to be seen as a weakness.

I want this to stop. I want "shaming" to be erased from our lexicon. I want all of us to be better friends, better mentors, better coworkers, better neighbors, better relatives, better partners, better people. I'm working on all of those things myself, which is why I know I have to issue this apology.

I'm sorry to every woman I've gossiped about.

I'm sorry to every woman I've backstabbed.

I'm sorry to every woman I've built up a competition with so I could justify my terrible behavior.

I'm sorry to every woman I didn't stick up for.

I'm sorry to every woman I doubted.

I'm sorry to every woman I demeaned.

I'm sorry to every woman I didn't champion.

I'm sorry to every woman I chastised.

I'm sorry to every woman I judged more harshly than I ever judged any man.

I'm sorry when I didn't speak out for you.

I'm sorry.

'This Happy Place'

Since its opening in 1955, Disneyland has been a destination for my family. We have home movies of my smartly dressed family taking the boat ride through Monstro's mouth into Story Book Land. As a Southern California teenager, my mom spent many evenings and weekends in the park with friends, including at Grad Night. Later, as a working mom with two small kids, Disneyland was a fun, safe, affordable place to spend a few hours (if you're under 3, you get in for free).

Fond memories of the PeopleMover (I even got to pose in one!).

Growing up, Disneyland was a treat. Once a year, we'd do a full day in the park, from morning open to midnight close. After a lifetime of going to the park, I got my first annual pass about 10 years ago, enabling me to take my then-toddler niece to Disneyland and California Adventure at least once a month. Now I get to take my niece and her younger brother for the rides, the parades, the fireworks, the characters, the entertainment, the fun whenever we want.

A neon D from the Disneyland Hotel, now on auction.

I've had more than a few people ask how I could go to Disneyland so often. "Aren't you sick of it?" Not at all. Each trip to the parks has a special moment — a first time on a ride for me or the kids, meeting a certain character, attending a special screening, taking part in an unofficial theme day. There's also the sentimental side, how unbelievably lucky I feel to have been able to spend so much time in the parks with my niece and nephew, for all the firsts we've had together, for having Disney milestones as they're growing up. So many people have a similar connection to the parks, the place couples get engaged, families hold reunions, people celebrate good news from their doctors.

An old Tinkerbell parking lot sign.

Whatever our memories and connections to Disneyland and California Adventure, we all show our affection toward the parks in our own ways, through clothing, accessories, tattoos, personalized license plates, and on and on. One family took that passion for the parks to an extreme, amassing an astounding collection of props, décor, accessories and more from Disneyland that once filled their home and now fills a former Sports Authority in the San Fernando Valley as the That's From Disneyland pop-up exhibit. Very soon, it will be all be auctioned.

A Fantasyland trash can is also part of the auction.

For nearly three decades, Richard Kraft built his incredible collection of Disneyland effects and memorabilia. Like me, Kraft first started visiting the park as a kid. Unlike me, he had the means to not just visit the park, but to bring large and small pieces of the park back home with him. As updates were made to rides and lands, Kraft was able to acquire vehicles, props, signage and more from every land, enough to outgrow one home and send part of his collection to storage. He had a Dumbo, a PeopleMover, a Matterhorn bobsled, the sea serpent from the original submarine ride, maps from a variety of eras in the park's history, stretching portraits from The Haunted Mansion, signage from the old parking lot, trash cans from various lands …

The Tomorrowland Coke machine I'm hoping to win.

Kraft's collection is packed into the former sporting goods store, smartly curated by Kraft, his son, Nick, and the team from Van Eaton Galleries into the lands immediately recognizable to all Disneyland fans. Each section tells the story of these lands and their evolution over Disneyland's 63-year-plus history, with pieces from rides that are no longer there (like the People Mover) or rides that have changed over time (like the Matterhorn). There are signs with old admission prices, old menu offerings. There are giveaways from celebrations of the past. There are sketches and contracts from the park's infancy.

Taking it back to 2000 with this list of admission prices.

 Accompanying the collected items is the story of the collection. Kraft's brother dealt with health issues his whole life and Disneyland offered a bit of a refuge for the family. After his brother died, Kraft visited Disneyland to feel that sense of connection to his lost sibling. He was soon inspired to build a collection that he shared with his now-grown son. Today, Kraft has a young daughter with a serious illness. The auction will benefit organizations that help kids like her. Before the items hit the auction block, though, Kraft wanted to share his collection with as many people as possible and collaborated with Van Eaton Galleries to create the free pop-up exhibit.

Cinderella figures once found in a window on Main Street.

This weekend's visit to That's From Disneyland will add to my stockpile of parks memories — riding the People Movers, parking in Thumper or Tinkerbell, standing in line for the ill-fated Rocket Rods, how uncomfortable the Matterhorn bobsleds used to be, the great cowboy lunches at Big Thunder Ranch, the whimsical animated windows on Main Street. I don't have the means to take any of it home (though did enter the raffle for a Tomorrowland Coke machine) but will always have my time in the parks and the people I've been lucky to enjoy those visits with. Even though they won't have the stuff anymore, I know the Kraft family will keep the passion they feel for Disneyland and the joy it's brought them over the years, now multiplied by passion and joy of the tens of thousands of people they've shard all that with through That's From Disneyland.

‘This One’s for You Tonight’

I had a lazy Sunday and caught up on “Vanderpump Rules,” one of the few reality shows I watch with any regularity. Now in its sixth season, the show is a “Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” spinoff that follows the lives of the servers at Lisa Vanderpump’s restaurant/lounge SUR.

It’s chaos. I’m amazed that anything gets done at SUR with all the screaming fights, back alley breakdowns, cigarette breaks, staff suspensions and storm offs. This many years in, I’m not sure how many members of the cast actually work at SUR when the cameras aren’t rolling, but when they are on the clock, everyone brings the drama.

The cast member I’m considering tonight doesn’t work at SUR, though. He tried once, but the “pressure” got to him and he walked out just minutes into his first expo shift. Tom Schwartz is a part-time model and husband of SUR server, and recent Queen Bee, Katie. Up until last season, a major plot driver was whether Tom and Katie would get married or not. The couple said their I-Do’s last season and we opened this season with the two as blissful newlyweds.

Well, maybe not that blissful. As a somewhat ardent viewer, I’ve watched members of the cast grow or atrophy over the years. These last few years have not been that kind to Tom, at least from the vantage point of my couch. I always thought he was a little too twitchy and fidgety. I wondered at his inability to commit to a job or his girlfriend. As part of cast that seemingly can’t go an hour without doing shots, Tom felt the most troubled when it came to drinking.

This season, with his best defense against cheating rumors being that he was black-out drunk and couldn’t remember his actions, that feeling has deepened. Maybe this guy has a real problem. If he does, as costar on a show where his fellow castmates fill sunscreen bottles with liquor so they can drink openly on the beach, what chance would he have to get help?

I understand the limitations of the reality in “reality” shows. I know editing is involved. I know there are storylines to serve. I also believe, though, that the producers work with what they’re given. It’s totally possible that Tom (and the rest of the VPR cast) had a slightly crazy summer, and that’s what ended up on the show, but then manages to live his life in a balanced way most of the time.

But what if it isn’t editing? What is our responsibility as viewers, as human beings, when we see someone in trouble? Is it enough to hope for the best or should we, despite being total strangers, reach out?