It’s October 2015 and I’m packing for a few days. Tomorrow I’ll fly to Seattle, and then will drive out to Snoqualmie to do some filming for the new version of Twin Peaks, now slated for a 2017 debut. I’ve signed a non-disclosure agreement so I can’t discuss anything with anyone.
After that phone call with David things fell apart between him and Showtime — sounded like a money issue. David tweeted that he was disappointed that he wouldn’t get the chance to return to the world of Twin Peaks. So those of us in the cast banded together and started a Facebook page to save Twin Peaks.
We hoped that if enough fans showed their support, it might change things for the better.
There was some talk of Showtime producing Twin Peaks without David, which was beyond unthinkable and spurred the creation of a video in which members of the original cast all weighed in on the idea of what Twin Peaks without David would be like. In the video, which got nearly half a million views on YouTube, cast members such as Sheryl Lee, who was Laura Palmer said, “Twin Peaks without David Lynch…is like a girl without a secret.” Mädchen Amick said, “Twin Peaks without David Lynch…is like a waitress without her uniform.” Catherine Coulson, in a grainy phone video, was filmed saying, “Twin Peaks without David Lynch…is like a log without its bark.” I was quoted as saying, “Twin Peaks without David Lynch…is like Abbott without Costello.”
Maybe it was the surge in fan support that helped, who knows, but not long after, whatever differences had been in play were patched up. And now the reboot is back on and the original nine episodes are extended to even more.
And so, as Shakespeare wrote 500 years ago, once more into the breach.
I’m going back to Twin Peaks and cannot wait to see everyone again. Dana Ashbrook and I have been emailing again and I’ve been in touch with Kimmy Roberts and others.
When I am under those lights again, with the camera pointed at me, and David giving me his usual look of focus and patience, I will likely be petrified.
And yet, there’s nowhere else in the universe I would rather be.
So. On the personal-life front, don’t be shocked and judge-y, okay? But I have reconnected with an old friend. Michael Santos is a sweet, loving, patient, kind, good-looking guy whose entire life has been spent outside of entertainment. He’s far more interested in meteorites and astronomy than in residuals and scripts and Hollywood gossip. But he loves the Giants, so he gets it. And we have a great time together.
Remember the name of that show from the ‘90s in which I played a total bitch? Life Goes On? That’s what happens if you’re lucky.
And I’ve been lucky. I should have died in the 1950s when as a careless teenager I flew over a highway embankment and through a billboard.
Then I should have bit the big one again in the 1960s when I swallowed God-knows-how-many tablets of Miltown when I wanted to escape all my crimes against Tim and our marriage.
I should by any account have expired of liver failure in 1984 when I was living with — and drinking with — Jack Nance in Los Angeles. Cancer could have taken me. Hells Bells, Walt Disney himself should have personally drowned me for smoking on the Jungle Ride.
Yet here I am staring down my 75th birthday with nearly everyone on the planet — who remembers such things — remembering me as Miss Beadle from Little House on the Prairie.
I’m happy to say that I’m still good friends with my two former husbands, Tim Considine and Jordan Hahn, and with nearly every guy I’ve had some type of fling with. I’m proud of that. It’s a lot of bridges that didn’t get burned. To me it represents friendship, conviviality, cutting some slack, and in some cases full-on forgiveness — the best parts of being human.
Every day I am blessed by my many families. My Little House family, who are so kind, thoughtful, and loyal and who’ve passed their love of the show onto their children and grandchildren. My Twin Peaks family who are full of friendship, laughter, and a dark and beautiful love for all things David Lynchian. My Pasadena Playhouse family including Liz Barron, Lydia DiVincenzo, Stuart Margolin, Sig Haig, Josh Bryant and many others who are now scattered all over the world and will always have a place in my heart. My alcohol recovery family, fellow soldiers in this fight, who are there everywhere I go and support me, listen to me, and help me pull through. And of course there’s my actual family — my brother Lewis and sister Barbara Jean and my ten nieces and nephews who are like my kids too. I’m blessed by everyone who came into my life through David Banks, such as Jason, and now with Michael Santos and his children.
At the beginning of this book I said that after all this I hoped you would find some portion of what you loved in the Miss Beadle character somewhere in me. That’s a tall order — I get that.
But in both Eva Beadle and Charlotte Stewart I believe there is hope, tenacity, empathy, patience, and love.
I don’t have Eva Beadle’s wide-eyed innocence. There’s been way too much sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll in my life to pretend any of that. But after everything I’ve seen and been through, I still have her sense of wonder in the universe and belief in the goodness of people.
If you don’t see a lot of Miss Beadle in me, I’d love for you to see some of Betty Briggs: the eternal optimist in spite of everything.
And as for Mary X in Eraserhead. You’ll have to ask David Lynch what happened with her. But in her defense Mary X did try to hang in there under some pretty horrible circumstances. And we’ve all been there.
As for any other characters, we’ll see. David Lynch is still kicking around. Neil Young could still pull another movie out of his battered hat. Or some as yet unknown writer-director could come along and dazzle us all with a film or a TV show we’ll never forget.
I think I still have a few characters left in me.