Applaud with the Audience and Cheer On a Friend
Don’t be afraid of the road you can’t see
Or the strangers you don’t know by name.
For in the blink of an eye, mysteriously,
Your life will never be the same.
—“YOU WILL MEET WITH ADVENTURE TODAY” BY KATHIE LEE GIFFORD FROM UNDER THE BRIDGE
As my deadline for this book approached, my former agent and friend Sam Haskell called me and asked that I accept an award he had nominated me for: Movieguide’s Visionary Award, which I would receive in LA on January 24, 2020. If anyone but Sam had asked me, I’d have said no because I simply didn’t have time. But Sam is one of my special few, so I agreed.
Then I learned that Regis would be giving me the award, and I was thrilled. I hadn’t seen him and Joy since the July before when I was home in Greenwich for a rare weekend with my Weirdos, working on The God of the Other Side.
To say it was a long evening is an understatement. The red carpet lasted more than an hour, the reception another hour, and then finally the audience assembled for the taping of what would end up becoming a Hallmark primetime special a month later.
But Regis hadn’t arrived, and I became concerned. He was eighty-eight then, and I had noticed that he was slowing down in his physicality and ability to process the world around him. Joy, his wonderful wife of fifty years, was ever present, protecting him. I remembered all the times I had attempted to do that for Frank too. God bless the caretakers.
My award would be among the last of the evening that was now close to six hours in coming. And with just minutes before it was scheduled, Regis and Joy finally arrived.
“Oh, Lord,” I prayed, “please be with him. Protect him and give him all the strength he needs for this moment.”
Regis was taken backstage to make his entrance. I whispered yet another prayer for him and one for myself. “Lord, give me the words to say. Please, Lord, I have no idea why I’m here or what Your purpose is. Just speak through me.”
I have never written a speech. I have always just asked God to lead me, and He always has. Always. So, I waited nervously for Reege to take the stage. Finally, he did, and to much love and applause from the audience. I was happy to hear the reaction of yet another audience that has enjoyed and appreciated him for so long. But then he began to struggle with the teleprompter. He got a little confused, and I could sense the audience’s concern for him too. Finally, he said, “And in my forty-five years in this business I spent fifteen of them with Kathie Lee, and they were the best fifteen years in my whole career.”
I smiled.
“So, let’s bring her onstage right now to accept the Visionary Award—Kathie Lee . . . Griffin!”
The audience gasped.
I was thrilled and threw myself to my feet, seizing the golden opportunity.
“It’s Gifford,” I yelled at him. Regis looked for the voice.
“It is?” he asked, and the audience roared. “Are you sure?”
The audience went wild. It was the only unscripted, genuinely funny moment of the very long evening. As I approached the stage to accept the award, I thanked the Lord for bringing us back to the classic Live with Regis and Kathie Lee days. It was a gift.
A lovely young lady handed me the award, and with joy, I hugged this dear friend of mine. “You’re killing me,” I whispered in his ear, then turned to the audience and said, “And you think you know somebody!”
Oh, I know him, all right. And I cherish his friendship. I cherish the memories, and I cherish all the moments we shared when we had the privilege of making America laugh.
I have another friend who has weathered many public and private memories with me—Hoda Kotb. It’s late March as I write this, and I watched her break down today on the show. She has been anchoring with Savannah Guthrie in isolation due to COVID-19.
Hoda was interviewing one of her favorite people from one of her favorite cities—Drew Brees from New Orleans—as he announced his extraordinary gift of $5 million to battle the pandemic in their beloved city.
“Something else is contagious too,” Hoda told him, “generosity.”
And then she simply began to give in to the raw emotion and frazzled nerves and sheer exhaustion of showing up for weeks trying to do her job with her usual grace, professionalism, and passion. I think it was the defining moment of her extraordinary career.
I wept with her. That’s her gift. She shows up authentic and optimistic and then she smiles that Hoda smile and laughs that Hoda laugh, and sometimes—in rare, unpredictable moments—she cries those Hoda tears.
That’s why I love her. That’s why everybody loves her. I stayed at TODAY ten years longer than I had planned because I fell in love with her.
I’ve been gone more than a year now, and I miss sitting next to her every day. I have watched her evolve from an award-winning journalist, Dateline Hoda, into an extraordinarily natural and captivating television presence, Happy Hour Hoda.
She was just awarded yet another Emmy for her rock-solid coverage of this pandemic, but all she cares about is rushing home to her family—Joel and Haley and Hope—and creating another memory.
I celebrate her. I admire her. I love her to pieces. And I lift up my glass as we did countless times and say, “Brava, Hoda Mama! You’re the best.”
I’ve been incredibly blessed to have several truly best friends—Regis and Hoda are simply two prime examples. A real friend makes you feel better about yourself. Friends help you cope when you think you’re done and offer hope that it can get better. They love you as you are but won’t let you stay that way. Clearly, having friends improves our lives. And best friends? They make every good thing even better.