The Weight to be Me

“Is Marisa here?” I ask John Wayne when he answers the door to their penthouse suite. Yep. That John Wayne. 

It’s summer in Ocean Shores, Washington, and my dad and his band “The Mix Bag Trio” are the featured lounge act at The Canterbury Inn for the summer of ’73. 

John Wayne is in town filming the movie “McQ.” My dad is beside himself with giddiness because he and his bandmates get to be extras in a bar scene with his hero.

Mr. Wayne and his film crew will be in town for a couple of weeks with his wife and two of his youngest kids. Marisa, is seven, a few years younger than me, but we become fast friends; and her dreamy older brother Ethan, who’s eleven, is so cute, that whenever he’s around, my cheeks turn bright pink, making it impossible for me to be cool around him.

There are many things I love about Ocean Shores. That our hotel room has sliding glass doors that open right on to the beach. That I feel pride when I see my dad and his band’s photos are the first thing you see when you walk into the lobby. I feel like “Eloise at the Plaza” as I prance around the restaurant, on a first name basis with the hostess and the wait staff. I can order whatever I want to eat or drink on the house – “I’ll have a Hamburger, fries, and a Shirley Temple please and thank you.” 

The coolest part is that the hotel manager’s daughter Carrie, also nine, is my bestie for the summer. We spend every day getting into just enough trouble to have fun but not get caught.

The Wayne family penthouse is on the top floor of our hotel, and only the family, and certain staff members have the special code that allows access for the elevator to stop on their floor. Good thing I’m tight with the manager’s daughter. 

I’ve been known to take the stage with my dad and his band from time to time – especially when we have live music parties at our house. They play a lot of classics and top 40 favorites. Whenever I perform, my go-to songs are “Jerimiah was a bullfrog (aka “Joy to the World”); “The Candy Man” from Willy Wonka; and Joni Mitchell’s “Twisted” – a completely inappropriate song for a kid, but it always brings the house down. 

“Now I heard little children were supposed to sleep tight
That’s why I got into the vodka one night
My parents got frantic, didn’t know what to do
But I saw some crazy scenes before I came to
Now do you think I was crazy?
I may have been only three, but I was swinging”

• From “Twisted,” by Joni Mitchell

I’ve convinced Carrie and Marisa, that if we rehearse, we could all three get up on stage and perform for the dinner crowd. We can stand behind my dad, the lead singer and drummer, and we’ll all sing together into the same microphone.

They both seem excited to do it, and we settle on “The Candy Man” – but our rehearsal time is constantly getting boy interrupted.

There are a small gang of boys that always hang out with Ethan – other cast and crew members kids, all out of school and with their parents on multiple filming locations for the summer.

The Wayne suite is beyond extra, with its own foosball and pool table, so when they’re all not outside riding dune buggies or hanging out on the beach, it’s where the boys hang out. And Carrie and I want to be wherever the boys are. And with Marisa…we have our designated wing-girl.

One night, a bunch of the boys say they’re going to play strip poker, but instead of the Wayne suite, they are going to have it in one of the nearby quirky beach chalets. One of the kids says his parents will be out for the night, so they can use the chalet for the card game. Carrie and I are both too young and flat chested – so they’re not interested in having us be a part of their game. But we don’t want to be left out…and Ethan will be there, and I want to be wherever Ethan is. 

The older kids are there to drink, and a few older girls show up to play the game, so Ethan yells at Marisa and her little girl gang – “Get the hell out of here…you’re all a bunch of babies!” 

Wow! Not cool Ethan. 

Me, my red cheeks, and my fellow disgruntled tweens leave the chalet and go to the beach to fake smoke some cigarettes I stole from my parents. We may not have boobies yet, but we’re not that innocent. We hype each other up “Who needs ‘em? Stupid boys!” But seriously, I’d give anything to see Ethan in his underwear.

Carrie and I are both completely boy crazy, but we strike out in terms of getting any of the older boys interested in us, which I’m sure our parents would be grateful for.

One night when I was at a sleepover at the hotel bungalow she lives in, she says we should learn how to be good kissers by practicing on each other, so when the time comes, we’ll know what to expect. 

Our kissing starts awkwardly on the mouth, but then Carrie wanders down to my armpit and starts to lick me there, which tickles, and makes me squirm a little. The lesson continued just long enough for me to confirm that I’m good to wait until I have a boy to kiss. Our experiment ends and we giggle ourselves to sleep.

It’s the Sunday of our big number, and we haven’t had time to rehearse. Our performance will be during the dinner rush, which is the only time anyone under 21 is allowed in the lounge. Carrie and Marisa are both starting to get cold feet, but I tell them not to sweat it, as my dad has a huge binder on a stand next to his drums, and the lyrics for all the songs he covers are written out in big letters (thanks to me), so we don’t even have to worry about remembering the words. 

It’s Sunday, and almost show time. Carrie and Marisa are nowhere to be found. Carrie’s not in her bungalow, so I take a quick ride up the elevator to the penthouse to see what’s going on with Marisa. 

When Mr. Wayne opens the door, he politely invites me in. I take a seat opposite him on one of the many white sofas in the suite while he asks his wife Johanna to see if Marisa is in her room. I understand he’s in the movies, but I’m not old enough to know he’s like, a legend. With all the confidence of a grown-up, I tell him “You know, if you want, you can come down and watch us. We’re going to sing The Candy Man Can.” He smiles kindly at me and says he’ll see if he can make it. 

Marisa comes out of her room, and standing next to her mom she says “I can’t do it! I’m too nervous. I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” 

I try to comfort her, and I really want her to sing with us. “That’s okay Marisa! If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Just come down and watch, you don’t have to sing. But I’ll be there to hold your hand if you change your mind.” 

I’ve been on stage with my dad so many times, even at the ripe old age of nine, I still get butterflies whenever I perform with him. 

Marisa tells me she’ll think about it, but I can tell she’s probably too scared to sing. Carrie’s also a bundle of nerves and says to count her out as well. My girl group fantasy is now a solo act.

As nice as Mr. John Wayne was to me, neither he, nor anyone else in the Wayne family make it down to the lounge that evening. Their time in Ocean Shores is about to wrap, and they will be heading to Oregon for their next shoot location in the morning. 

But I’m a professional…and the show must go on.