Items lost

 April 29, 2020 

I’m claiming Julia on HBO Maxx for myself: it was apparently made just for me.  Oh sure, you can watch it if you like, but ask yourself: did you work for WGBH as a freshly scrubbed college grad in the early 80s? Did Avis DeVoto share space in your office (a trailer far away from the main studio even though the Auction raised 11% of the station’s operating budget)? Did you also go to women’s college? And shared a love of cooking from an early age?   Okay, fine. You will love the show as I do even if you haven’t ticked any of those boxes. Why? Because it is magical.  It is important.  It’s entertaining and lovely and thought provoking. It initially sets you wondering: how much of this is true? But after a while, you don’t care – you want to be under it’s/her spell.

At first glance you might think, oh boy, another take on Julia Child - just what I need.  But it’s more than that – it’s the story about the early struggles of public television.  About a woman in her later third of life contemplating her relevancy, her willingness to take risks, and her belief in herself – especially when society was indicating she should enjoy the brief notoriety of her ground-breaking book, then fade quietly into suburban life. Every episode is a gift.  Julia travels back to Smith – that other women’s college in the Pioneer Valley – for her college reunion, as I am preparing for my 40^th in a month.  She takes stock of where she is against the memories of her former self, a phenomenon we all encounter upon passing through the Mary Lyon gates onto campus. In another episode, she endures a scathing Betty Friedan at an awards dinner, while my encounter with Betty in Ireland years later was of no note – I had not yet read her book, so I hung on the periphery of the fans when she visited the School of Irish Studies.

I cannot pinpoint the exact triggers of love and comfort this show provides for me, but there are many.  Some of my reaction must be a cheering-on of her finding calling in act 2 (or 3?) of her life – a struggle I am currently facing.  (Struggle is too strong a word – let’s try puzzle.) I want her to do well. I want the same for myself.

I wish I could say I was besties with Avis DeVoto. I was, in fact, a self-absorbed 22-year-old completely ignorant of anything Julia save the SNL skit. And I think others will affirm that Avis was an odd duck – appearing intermittently, clad in galoshes or other sturdy New England garb, to work on correspondence for The French Chef in her tiny cubbie office adjacent to ours.  I know that I interacted with her a bit and I will share this sad episode with you:  Avis hand typed a copy of Julia’s recipe for French bread and shared it with me.  It was safely tucked into my metal recipe box, which I inadvertently left in a cabinet when Tom and I moved from our first apartment in Santa Clara, CA in 1990. I was heartbroken when I realized that my box of treasures (which contained many recipes in mother’s handwriting – much more precious) was left behind, but the apartment manager said it had been tossed. I still regret this to this day.

The characters in the show, some real and some fictional, weave together a delightful journey of the The French Chef’s beginnings, and of a woman claiming her talent and finding her (very distinctive) voice. And in every treatment of Julia’s life her love story with Paul is tantamount. Cooking, Boston, food, love and memories – can you see why I am claiming this for myself? And, why I want to share it with you? Go watch – it’s well worth paying for yet another viewing subscription. And while you are at it – make sure you are also supporting public television in the same way. Where would we be without it?