A Lotus Grows in the Mud
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With her trademark effervescence, Goldie delivers a personal look at private and powerful events that carried her through life: her father’s spontaneity; her mother’s courage; and the joy of being a daughter, a sister, a parent, and a lover. She writes about her childhood dreams of becoming a ballerina. She takes us on a tour of her go-go years in 1960s New York City, the phenomenon of TV’s Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In, her Oscar-winning debut in Cactus Flower and Hollywood stardom. She writes intimately about the challenges of love, anger and fear, and the importance of compassion and integrity. She speaks openly about her family, her partner Kurt Russell, her children; her faith, her curiosity for that which she doesn’t yet know, and her thirst for knowledge. Most of all, it is a trip back through a life well lived by a woman well loved.
had no idea they had such a strong emotional life,” I say. “If they feel so deeply, then why do they kill?” the director asks. Papa nods sadly. “Elephants rarely kill unless they are threatened. I knew of one who accidentally killed his favorite mahout, thinking he was the one who abused him. When he realized what he’d done, he circled the body and wouldn’t let anyone near it. Bereaved, he wept real tears. He even tried to revive him. Only when he realized there was nothing he could do did he
of Oliver’s 1972 blue Bronco. “Yeah, Pa,” he yells back, his head deep inside the trunk, squashing his last duffel bag among his books, records, sports gear and prized fishing rod. We stand by the side of the road outside our home watching helplessly as he packs his belongings into his car for his first-ever move away from home. “Oh, I almost forgot, your sheets are in the dryer,” I say, dashing back inside the house to grab the soft sheets that he loves so much. I roll them up, tuck them
strength, is following hard on his heels. But, no, I can’t allow myself to think about that. It’s too unbearable. I am happy that she is at school right now, for I fear her heart couldn’t bear to witness Oliver’s departure. Wyatt, also in class, is spared from this defining moment. I can still see him at Oliver’s graduation, holding on to his big brother for dear life, saying, “I don’t want him to go.” Then Ollie too, in his cap and gown, holding Wyatt close to him and lamenting, “I won’t see
far. But Juan knows how to get what he wants.” I am shocked that Juan is an orphan; he seems so happy. I wonder if he is like this all the time. “Are his parents dead?” “No, he ran away from home when he was four years old because he was so badly beaten. His family were very ignorant and thought he was possessed by the devil. He lived on the streets for at least two years, we think. He only came to us when the police picked him up.” The more I hear, the more attached I become to this child. I
red light came on beneath the camera. Nor could I resist putting him in my one and only nightclub act at the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas. We stayed in Elvis’s suite and had a blast. I love nothing more than being on the stage with my dad, and here we are again. I spot his car driving up the pass to the location. He is looking for me through the windshield, hands draped loosely over the steering wheel as always, eyes eager with anticipation. I run out into the street that has been turned into a