There's nothing like growing up around a successful actor to make you realize how unglamorous of a life it really is. Obviously there are more perks to being a celebrity than there are for most professions, but, if you're lucky enough to find regular employment, you work hard. You spend your days on a windowless soundstage, take most meals alone, mutter lines to yourself like a madwoman, and live apart from your family when opportunity strikes.
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When my sister, Lily, and I were in elementary school, Mom was cast in the role of the hard-drinking best friend to Cybill Sheperd in Cybill. Up to that point, our parents (my father is an actor, too) worked on-stage in New York, and managed the two-hour commute to our home in rural Connecticut via the Bonanza bus or on my father's motorcycle. But when Cybill struck, Mom's commute became even more complex: she negotiated a schedule that allowed her to work for three weeks in L.A., only returning home for twelve days a month.
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A sitcom salary in the 1990s meant a lot of money and attention. Pretty quickly, we went from being kids with a quiet life to being kids who were told not to cry in the airport because "people are watching." We went to prep schools and Ivy League colleges, and were presented with new kinds of opportunities and new kinds of friends. Many of these are normal transitions, of course, but the addition of money, and its origin, made things especially confusing.
The author with mom Christine Baranski. Photo: Courtesy of the author
Usually, I didn't tell my peers that Mom was an actress—fortunately, her fame was never astronomical—but people always found out. To this day, I get the feeling that people who make the connection expect that I've been exposed to something special. Not wanting to burst any bubbles, I oblige and say a few words about projects she's worked on and how talented she is. But I can't help but feel annoyed that anyone would think this world is endowed with magic. Famous actors aren't special creatures. Their life, like that of any dedicated professional, is a grind.
Recently, the driver who took Mom to the airport on those sad Sunday afternoons before a three-week stint told me that she cried every time they pulled away from the house. It was always clear, though never insisted on, that we owed all of our opportunities to those difficult years. We got to live the kind of life that mattered to my parents—which is now the kind of life that matters to us. Such is the tale of Mom, the celebrity: it's the story of any parent making big sacrifices for her kids.
Christine Baranski with her daughters. Photo: Courtesy of the author
