Gray - The Road to Happiness Is Always Under Construction

This book is dedicated to my family:

Jeff Thrasher, Kehly, Lance, Ryder, and Jack Sloane.

I am so proud to be your mother and grandmother.

A special thanks to Lily Tomlin, who said, The road to success is always under construction.

N ext week I will turn seventy-five years old. My road to happiness has been long, but, as I enter this wonderful phase of my life I believe that the coming years will be among the best ones yet, filled with insight, creativity, and confidence. I have not only accepted that life continues on (hurling surprises at me every so often), I have surrendered to its unpredictability and learned to navigate the potholes, detours, and traffic jams.

I know my strengths and my weaknesses and Im OK with all of them. The fear, guilt, and resentments I felt when I was younger have receded. The worry, judgment, criticism, and bitterness I experienced years ago have given way to forgiveness, peace, lightheartedness, and playfulness. Im older, Im wiser, and Im more fun. I can laugh and I can play and I can bounce back.

When I break down or am run off the road, I get back up and put one foot in front of the other. Thats a choice I make. Thats a choice that you can make. You can keep moving or lie there and dwell on your troubles and become cranky and crotchety. You can choose to be grumpy or curious. You can choose to learn something new: study a foreign language or try a new food. Change your mind about something. Try a new hobby; start a new project. Explore.

Do you feel old and useless, that its too late for you? Do you feel hopeless and stuck, thinking, Whats the use of trying something new? Im too old. Life is a gift to be nourished and these negative attitudes will, with time, wither you and turn your life to stone. But, the choice is yours. The choice between life and death, joy and fear, energy and exhaustion. Each is as simple and profound a choice to make as turning left or right on the road of life. Choose wisely.

Recently, I gave my son a fiftieth birthday party. After half a century, all I remember about our first meeting was how my heart opened, how much love I felt for him in an instant. I remember telling my husband Ed in the delivery room, I feel like were the only three people in the world right now. His fiftieth served as proof of just how fast time goes, and as a reminder that we must honor each days passing with love, to give all we can to create a planet where all babies are born into a nurturing, safe environment. It can be done. One persons love can spread around the world. Its vital, especially at this age, to love with an open heart, give all you can, and honor each day as the blessing it is. Now is not the time to turn back or pull over. Its our obligation as citizens of the planet to share our wisdom, experience, and creativity.

My life has been a full one. I have learned many things. I have loved and been loved. I value both the giving and receiving. My goal for this book is to share stories about my life, about the giving and receiving, and the things Ive learned. Some of the life lessons were hard, but each made me wiser and less afraid. I expect the lessons to keep on coming. The road to happiness, and wisdom, is always under construction. Being unafraid and authentic have been my lifes work. I think it shows. I look pretty good, not for my age. For any age. My smile, the light in my eyes, and a positive attitude are the results of a life well lived, fears banished, grudges forgotten, and conflicts resolved. As I look back, I see that life has unfolded with divine timingand not without many speed bumps along the way. There are three words Id like to focus on: Time, Love, and Give. They are my compass. They define who I am and where Im going.

Sharing my stories and ideas is the gift Im giving to myself, and to you, to celebrate my seventy-fifth birthday. For volume two, youll have to wait another seventy-five years.

A few years ago, Jeffrey Lane, my longtime publicist called to tell me that People magazine asked to photograph me for their annual Sexiest People Alive issue.

I think they have me confused with someone else, I said.

No, they want you. Well, not you. They want your legs, replied Jeffrey.

Well, shucks. What seventy-two-year-old wouldnt be pleased to hear that? At my age, to be included in the issue with all those young, hot things was an unexpected, unbelievable honor. I had my doubts that it was for real until I arrived at the shoot with photographer Robert Erdmann.

He draped me in faux fur, sat me on a chair, and said, Lets see those gorgeous gams of yours!

A young woman from the magazine interviewed me. I told the story of a long-ago modeling gig. In 1966 a photographer called and asked, Can you come in for an hour? We need legs. I went to the studio. He had me sit on the edge of a chair and roll on silk stockings while he took pictures of my legs. A few months later, my gams became iconic in the movie poster for The Graduate . Everyone assumed they were Anne Bancrofts. She must have been out of town or she wasnt consulted at all about the poster. The movie producers probably said, Lets do a poster with legs! and they called me. Dustin Hoffman was cut and pasted in later. I got $25. Easy money.

The photo and article ran and I ran with it, doing a round of publicity. Naturally, every headline went something like this:

Linda Gray, , Bares Legsand Theyre Not Hideous!

Everyone seemed shocked that my limbs were not withered and deformed by varicose veins, liver spots, sagging skin, and wrinkles. It was fabulous to be included in the magazine and I adored the photo (so much so, youll see it on the cover of this book). But enough with the astonishment that a woman my age has still got the goods. As Diana Vreeland once said, I loathe narcissism, but I approve of vanity. Ive got it. I flaunted it. Id do it again.

Of all my body parts, my legs have been a particular source of prideand income. As a model, my legs put food on the table and paid my rent. If not for my stems, Elizabeth Taylor wouldnt have given me the charming epithet the bitch with the long legs. Unlike my eyesmy other distinctive partI have never taken my legs for granted. Since age five, Ive lavished them with care and thanked God for their enduring service. Theyre a blessing, one you cant fully appreciate unless you lose them.

When I was born in 1940, our president was Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Like our nations fearless leader, my paternal grandfather, Leslie Vincent Gray, had been paralyzed by polio. Before then hed been vigorous and athletic. At sixteen, he lied about his age to work on the railroad, shoveling coal into train engines. He was in his late teens when flu-like symptoms drove him into bed. He never walked again.

As a young girl, I thought Grandpas wheelchair was the coolest. My baby sister, Betty, and I would climb on his lap and he would ferry us around Culver City, the Southern California suburb where we lived. I remember people waving at us, the gentle jostling of the wheels on the sidewalk, his strong chest and arms, the smell of Old Spice and pipe tobacco. I was the luckiest kid in the world.

Despite his being confined to a wheelchair, nothing slowed Grandpa down. He married (twice) and fathered three sons. A visionary and an inspiration to others with physical disabilities, he invented poles that attached to the gas and brake pedals so that paralyzed people could drive a car using just their hands. When Betty and I got too big to ride on his lap, Grandpa invented a go-cart attachment for his wheelchair so we (and my cousins and a few dogs), could ride along. We called it Grandpas Widget. He was so full of life, I never thought of him as disabled or impaired. One of our grandpas walked and one wheeled around. That was just how it was.