I recently finished picking up and making a huge move across the country. As a result, I haven’t had a television in the longest time. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed it. Not only watching shows and reviewing them, but also just letting my favorites numb out my brain for a little while.

A girl gets awfully tired of thinking deep thoughts sometimes.

Such was the case last night, when I found myself utterly at a loss. Call a friend? Nah. Laundry? Boring. Put together the new bookshelf from Ikea? Yawn.

I decided to take a walk around the old town area of my new little burg to get out the restlessness. It was a perfect night to window shop. A bit chilly, but nothing wrapping a poncho around me couldn’t cure. Several blocks and cute stores later, I was thrilled to see a movie theater just waiting to feed my media starved self. Actors and music and script, oh my! I picked a flick, got some corn and settled in.

I should mention at this point, that I had no idea I was going to see this particular movie. Seems I got the title Playing for Keeps completely mixed up with Pitch Perfect. (This kind of thing is happening  to me frequently these days, I’m not happy to report.) So imagine my chagrin in the opening scenes when Gerard Butler is playing soccer instead of a bunch of funny chicks singing. At first I thought I’d stepped into a sports movie, but hey. I paid my eleven fifty so I was staying. After all, I liked Moneyball, so anything could happen. I wrapped my poncho around me and stretched out. It quickly became apparent that it was a romantic comedy and I was safe.

Or was I?

Playing for Keeps has been done to death. This plot line is as tired as my grandmother, and she’s dead. You know the one I mean … divorced Dad hardly spends time with his son, but then a wacky happenstance causes him to coach his kid’s team and they turn out to win the last game and Dad and Mom get back together. Dad grows up because his son teaches him the importance of unconditional love and blah blah blah!

Along the way, I was surprised at how many stars showed up in supporting roles. Catherine Zeta-Jones, Uma Thurman (who does not miss the chance to show off her fab body in bra and panties) Dennis Quaid (surprise, he plays an unlikable guy!) and Jessica Biel. Musta been the huge paychecks that drew these actors in, cause it sure wasn’t the inane script that was completely uneven and unfunny.

Certain details were never explained (like why didn’t George get busted for taking nine hundred bucks from the team money to pay his rent?) and other scenes strove to be funny but were just plain throwaway. As in Barb (Judy Greer) pursuing Coach George relentlessly and then simply disappearing from the film almost altogether?

However.

I still have a pulse and blood running through my veins, so I have to acknowledge that there’s something to be said for the Man Candy that is Gerard Butler. Although I can’t see why he threw money at this project (if he would have asked me I would have just fed him another grape and told him to keep his cash in his pocket after I let him put his pants back on) I can appreciate why he chose the role. His character turns into a decent guy, so he gets to be the hero at the end. He also gets to lock lips with almost every woman in the film.

And Gerard is really not a bad actor. He has this whole thing to carry on his manly shoulders. He’s in almost every scene … looking very swarthy and adorable even with the high definition showing his eye crinkles. Yep. Without Gerard, this movie would have been much more of a droning bore. He, at least, made it palatable. It’s pretty sad,though, when that’s the only positive thing you can wring out of a film.

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I won’t go into what my thoughts are about the best-selling porn, um … I mean erotic fiction novel Fifty Shades of Grey. I suppose that’s another post, and one I’m not sure I have the inclination to write (although you never know.) I can only allow you to get so far inside my head, ya know. Wink wink.

Suffice it to say, that after getting to know the lead character of Christian Grey by the end of book one, I was interested enough in the guy to google some of the music mentioned in the follow-up Fifty Shades Darker.

And I’m so very glad I did!

The minute I heard Eva Cassidy’s voice I was spellbound. The first video I’m showing you is perhaps the song she is best known for, in the circles where she is known at all. I’ve always loved this tune, everyone has. It’s almost like an anthem and I thought no one could do it the justice that Judy Garland did.

But then I experienced Eva.

Eva’s voice, while being sweet; is also powerful and lilting. Her phrasing is such that I’ve rarely heard; the emphasis on certain words, the drawing out of others. She’s a captivating image onstage; a beautiful blond who by all accounts had no idea she was beautiful, simply sitting and playing her guitar.

I quickly searched out her library on YouTube. The mix of genres Eva covered was incredible, and also the death of her where the record companies were concerned. Several times she was looked at by major labels who wanted her to declare herself an artist of one style or another.

And Eva said no.

She loved and performed many different kinds of music. From jazz to folk to pop and back again. She wasn’t about to bend to the pressure to pigeon-hole herself.

After all, she was only in her early thirties when all this was going on. She probably thought she had a lot of time ahead to be recognized and accepted for the kind of performer she wanted to be.

It breaks my heart to say that wasn’t true. Eva died in 1996 of malignant melanoma, a deadly form of skin cancer. A few years earlier she’d had a mole removed, in ’96 she felt a horrible ache in her hips that she thought was from being on a step-ladder painting one of her murals …

And well, it wasn’t from that. Cancer had spread throughout her body and she was given just months to live.

A few weeks before she died, Eva performed for the last time at a benefit for cancer. She chose to sing this. (I’m warning you to get a kleenex.)

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=uEBBGSgO16M

I know. I know how you feel. It’s said there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

Here’s a couple more of Eva’s live stints and recorded work that will show you her fantastic range and amazing talent.

Take for example? The way she can sing the blues!

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=sAgGyo3TseE

Or rock and roll …

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRNleKBDCNw

I adore Eva’s version of this country music classic.

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=lA6V2LPxBq8

And I’ll end with my favorite song of hers. I listen to this every night on my walks. I love to walk just before the sun goes down during Fall, and I let Eva and this folk song illustrate the scenery for me.

//www.youtube.com/watch?v=0uKdHT7bquM

So, that’s Eva.

She never did achieve popularity outside of the Washington D.C. area where she resided during her lifetime.

She’s caught on posthumously due to word of mouth, certain public radio stations and now the Fifty Shades book trilogy.

If you weren’t aware of this magical artist, then welcome to my love affair. If you had heard of her? I hope that this post was a solid reminder of what we lost on that November day sixteen years ago.

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Last July, I was at the NBC party during Comic-Con in San Diego.

Keith and Ivey were with me, getting their picture taken with a famous monkey. I had on a kicking little outfit. Cast members from the show Community were being interviewed by a video crew in a corner. The food and drinks were flowing. I got a free beverage from the helpful barstaff and decided to stroll around.

The crowd was thick and someone bumped me, lurching me into the guy behind me. It was  Silas Weir Mitchell, making an appearance for his show Grimm. He kindly righted me on my feet, shook my hand and asked how I was doing. By the time I murmured that I was fine and thanked him, he had already disappeared into the throng.

Silas wasn’t a hard actor to recognize. If you watch Grimm, you know he’s a unique looking person. Usually I’m pretty good at spotting actors. At this particular party, they stood out like snow flurries in the California night, placed there by their network to talk with press and fans alike.

I stopped to watch David Guintoli (Nick Burkhardt), who was being swarmed by women. I chuckled to myself that these chicks (who were by no means fat) had at least thirty pounds and three inches of height on David, who’s a teeny little guy with a huge Cyclops head. I’m now convinced, watching the new season of Grimm, that the director shoots David from that upwards camera angle to add some proportion to him and make him seem a bit stronger.

Sorry, David. No offense.

Anyway, right about now I was craving a cigarette. (Yeah, yeah. Take your lecture somewhere else for the purpose of my story, please.) The only problem being that with my cute little outfit, the only option was to carry a clutch bag.

I know you girls are with me, but for those of you of the male type persuasion let me just say? You can’t fit much into these things.

I had my ID (in case I got murdered in this foreign city) my press pass, some cash and that’s it.

So I had to look around the balcony of the Hard Rock and find myself someone generous.

There he was. Standing relatively in the middle of the crowd minding his own business. He was tall and I placed him at a few years older than me, and he was exceedingly swarthy looking. He was puffing away and checking out the crowd with an amused expression on his face. Not a sassy look exactly. He seemed approachable.

I’ve run through my share of those when I was pursuing acting, and when I was in college. But sometimes jonesing for something is more important than your emotional comfort. So I went you to him and asked if he’d mind lending me a smoke I’d never return.

He smiled and pulled one out of his pack. He apologized that they were menthol. I said that beggars can’t be choosers and thanked him. We stood and looked around the party.  I started some small talk. I’m waaay good at small talk.

We agreed the San Diego night was pretty. We agreed the food was fine. And at sometime around this point, we started getting interrupted by people who pulled this man aside and said things I could barely make out.

Who am I kidding? I pretended I wasn’t listening, but I was.

And I heard things like, “I love you, you’re the best. I’m so glad you took a moment to talk. Good luck.”

When he turned back to me, I said to him, “Hmm, you’re obviously an actor. But I’m sorry to say I don’t know from where.”

He laughed and replied that it didn’t matter. We started trading acting stories — talking about how difficult and gut-wrenching auditions are, and what a thick skin you need to have to handle the rejections. I mentioned I had all but left the business because of that very fact, that for me writing about it seemed a lot safer.

And here’s the part I thought you’d like to know: I asked him if he minded being interrupted during private conversations like we were having right then.

He said not at all. He told me that he had a new show starting soon and that he relished the idea of getting feedback from the audience. After being an actor for so long, he felt he’d finally hit it, and he went on to say he was going to enjoy the ride for all it was worth. Because he never knew when he might be out of work again.

We wrapped things up after that. More and more people were wanting his attention. But as I walked away I remember wishing good things for him. It’s not often you meet an actor that humble, grateful and honest.

Ivey told me later that the guy I had met was Billy Burke, from the then-upcoming fall show Revolution, on NBC among other things. (If you are currently squealing and wetting your pants in frustration at me — sorry. I’m not a fan of the Twilight movies.)

I guess I’m not so good at spotting actors.

Since then, I’ve checked out Billy’s show. It’s not the kind of thing I’d normally watch if I hadn’t have met him. It’s an interesting premise, though, and Billy does a respectable job in his role.

I’ve found myself hoping the show does well and sticks around for awhile.

If for no other reason?

Than Billy.

Who’s a nice guy.

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