Exercised Over Debra Winger

The interview with Debra Winger reminded me of my observations and feelings about her as a schoolmate in junior high school. (She was a replaceable acquaintance, as opposed to that year’s other option--a replaceable best friend.)

If at that time George Cukor found her unpromising, I would have to disagree. From the eyes of one 14-year-old observing another, she was more than noticeable. The same things I liked about her then are the same I like about her now.

Yeah, she was “cute.” She was funny. And she wore the shortest mini skirts. She also had, much to my delight and many others’ disdain, the biggest mouth our ninth-grade class had to offer.

But beyond the facade, even then there was a vibrant soul in search of something “organic.” (In junior high, it was Horticulture I or nothing.)

She desperately needed to be liked, and not necessarily by those she herself liked. Unlike the “wheat colored” clique she aspired (and often succeeded) to socialize with, she was, as I thankfully observed, far too rough at the edges and vulnerable to ever become one of them.

She played funny and dumb, which is often what smart people do to mask boredom. Her mind and mouth got her in trouble then too, but it saved her (as it continues to) from mundaneness; a cruel and usual punishment for the passionate.

Underneath it all was the anger. Sometimes at the big fat world in general, but often at oneself for needing a fool’s approval.

It’s funny how kids can be like that. Movie stars too, I guess.

DEBORAH SILVER

Agoura Hills