Lisa and Don Guest Blogger

 

LISA:

 

I met Anton about 19 years ago. He and Don were working at Backyard together. He came out to the lobby to meet me before we left on our date. He was sweet, but I was intimidated – Anton in producer mode is impressive and a bit scary. Little did I know that within a couple of years, I would marry Don, and Anton would become family too.

         Anton wrote about his family a few weeks ago and included a picture of the Sopranos to illustrate. We're both Italian, so we’re from the same tribe. My dad, youngest of eleven, had a brother who looked like Uncle Junior. My Uncle Lou and Anton would’ve gotten on well. They shared a love of Vegas, Tom Jones and Italian food. Uncle Lou loved to drink too, though he never made it into the beverage program. My dad always said being stubborn was in my blood. His mom, my Nona, was a loving but indomitable force in all our lives. An immigrant with eleven kids, she had to be tough. Dad said ‘you can’t bull a bull-head’, meaning if she’d set her mind on something, don’t bother trying to change it. 

         About 16 years ago Anton and our friend Vicki were going to Ireland to run in the marathon and Don and I decided to come along, as cheerleaders. We’d been dating a few years and considered getting married there, but decided to wait, because we wanted our kids to be at the wedding. We had a wonderful time and called it our pre-wedding honeymoon, for four. I really got to know Anton better on that trip, and he learned more about me – as one does on a honeymoon. He learned things like, I’m freakishly afraid of heights, and I apologize to lamps and other inanimate objects. We played ‘name that tune’ and had Don and Vicki hum songs, which is how we learned that they are both tone deaf! We have many inside jokes from that trip – “I’m from New York, maybe you’ve heard of it?”

Vicki, Anton, Lisa in Ireland 2006

 

Don and I planned to get married when we got back to LA, but we couldn’t decide where. We didn’t want a big wedding, but I didn’t like the idea of getting married in the courthouse. Money was a consideration. Anton saw a problem and found a solution, as a producer does. He offered to host our wedding at his (then) girlfriend Karin’s house. We accepted and he took care of EVERYTHING. I mean, seriously. All we did was invite people and show up. Her house was draped in twinkly lights and flowers, he brought in food, Italian of course. He produced our wedding, so of course it was fantastic. Anton doesn’t do anything less – even without a budget. 

Snapshot from our Wedding 

         Don and Anton remained close all these years, but they were always traveling for work - on different jobs now. Anton slowed down long enough to get married ten years ago. Mari is perfect for Anton, which is great. But she’s also perfect for us. She has a twisted sense of humor – a requirement to be with Anton! Her intelligence is undeniable, and she’s – I mean, come on, look at her! She’s stunning. We loved her immediately and knew he had to marry her. Thank god Anton is smart too. 

         We had a great time when we saw them, but life was busy so it was rare. About seven years ago, we made it a priority to see each other more. I can only speak for me, but I’m so glad we did. Don and I don’t have any relatives out here, but it really sunk in that Anton and Mari are family. Spending time with them grounded me. Life can be tough sometimes – health issues, aging parents, teenage kids, it can make you feel un-tethered . . . but through it all, we ate delicious food, talked about what was important, what scared us, what we loved. We were each other’s witnesses, and no matter how serious it got, we always ended up laughing. Life got right sized at our dinners. 

Mari, Anton, Jack, Don, Lisa NYC 2018

         They talked about moving to Portugal and I hate to admit, I didn’t want them to go for selfish reasons. But they loved it and so how could I not be happy for them? They showed us incredible villas there, always with plenty of room for us to visit. But before they picked a place, Anton started to fall when he was running, and when he couldn’t run anymore, he’d fall walking . . . and you know the rest of that story. Between Covid and the progression of his ALS, the dream of Portugal got further and further from their reach.

Anton kept on traveling and working as much as he could handle until he couldn’t, and when he slowed down we had more dinners together. We played Mexican Train, ate, talked, and laughed.

         Anton is a fighter, and he’s fighting hard. But this disease is a son of a bitch. At first, I think I believed he would win this fight. I mean, he was like Rocky, and Mari was his Adrian and his trainer Mickey wrapped up in one person. But I’m getting to that age where I no longer believe I’ll cheat death. Instead, I want to milk every last experience out of life. To love, travel, work, play, cry, laugh, and love some more. 
         I’ve seen Anton walk sans walker, though he ‘needed’ one. (He fell – often, and literally on his face!) I’ve seen him take minutes to bring the fork to his mouth. He does things that are really challenging for him, for no other reason than because he can still do them. Eventually, he surrenders, as he did to the walker, then the wheelchair, and now to be fed by someone else’s hand. But he does it in his time. 

         He still stands up to brush his teeth, or to stretch his legs - the same legs that have run countless miles. A marathon on every continent, now they can barely hold him up! He’s had to ‘let go’ of so much, and he’s done it with a grace, heart and strength that I’ve never witnessed before. By grace, I don’t mean he lets go easily. He’s a bull head, so when he hits a wall, he hits it a few more times to make sure it’s not a door. I get him. I love his resilience. 

His eye gaze machine still sits unused in the corner of his office. He can speak, and if we listen, we can understand him. I understand him. He won’t ‘give up’ just because he’s can’t win the war against ALS. He will continue to live every moment he has and look for the meaning in it. It’s difficult to watch, and I can only imagine what it’s like for him. Mari loves him enough to let him do it his way, with occasional resistance. She’s told me that her goal is to support him in living however he wants to live for whatever time he has left. I can’t think of a better way to say I love you. 

         Anton, I know you want to feel you’ve made an impact on the world around you. You already have. I see you. I hear you. It’s not about cheating death. That’s one we’ll all succumb to. It’s about having the courage to experience it all, no matter how scared I am. It’s about not cheating myself out of life. Like Anton, who is living his best life and will continue to do so until further notice.

 

         

Don:

 

If you read this blog to find out what it’s like to have ALS, you might be disappointed this week. Because even though I consider myself one of Anton’s closest friends, I have no idea what it’s really like. I can only standby and watch, like the rest of us who love this family. Helpless as fuck. 

         You can tell how long someone’s known Anton by the name they call him or the name he refers to himself when he used to be able to leave you a message.

         “Hey, give me a call, it’s Tone.” He used say to my voicemail. 

         

         When I met him in 1994 he was Tony. Family and friends from when he was a kid, know him as Anthony. Or “Ant” for short. 

         Although we didn’t meet until 94, I first contacted him in 93. I was a production assistant trying to break into the business. A producer had given me a list of names I could call looking for work. So I called every so often and left messages.

         “Hi, this is Don Anderson. I’m new to LA and looking for PA work. I’m a hard worker and willing to do the 1st job for free. Please give me a call, you won’t be disappointed.” I said into their machines. The world before cell phones.

         There was no one on that list I called more than Anton. That’s because everyone else returned my calls eventually. 

         “I don’t have any work now but I’ll save your number.” Or “I got out of the business 3 years ago.” They may not have all given me work but they called me back.

 

         But not Anton. Although he did happen to pick up one day, not knowing it was someone looking for work.

         “Hi Tony, my name is Don Anderson…”

         “Oh, sorry I was expecting someone else. Give me your number and I’ll call you back."

He didn't. Maybe that is why I never stopped calling him. I don’t know who was more stubborn, him for not calling me back or me to keep calling over and over. For a year. 818-508-5929. His old landline number, seared into my brain for life. 

I won. Eventually he called me back and booked me on a job. He figured that was the only way I’d quit calling. (And he never had me work for free) 

 

I still have that notebook

         I worked that job with him and became one of his 1st calls on every shoot after. I was a good PA. Anton was a good PM, who became an amazing producer. In showbiz there is this thing, this lack of vision most people have. If you are a PA when they meet you, they always see you as a PA. If you are a 4th grip or work at craft service, they can’t see you as anything else. If you want to move up, you have to go outside your circle. Anton is the only exception I’ve ever seen to this blindness. When he moved up the ladder, he made his Prod Coordinator, Kim Monaco, hire me as an Assnt Coordinator, though I don’t think she wanted to. I was slow on the computer. 


         When Kim moved on, Anton hired me as the coordinator. And we became a team. And more importantly we became friends. I was sober and he drank. (a lot!) But we were still close.  

Top Row L-R - Kevin Sharpton, Sean, Jack, Neil
Bottom Row - Don, George, Anton, John Jay

 

         Once, along with Kevin Sharpton, I climbed through his bedroom window trying to find out if he was still alive. He’d been missing for three days. We called him over and over but there was no answer. So Kevin and I drove to his house. When we arrived, his car was there and we knocked and knocked but no one came to the door. We decided to break in. I honestly thought we were going to find him dead. I knew he owned a gun. So just in case he was still alive, I let Kevin crawl through the window first. He was all wanting to be a hero, so I said go ahead, and held the window open for him. 

 

         Years later when Anton called and told me he was going to rehab, I cried and told him I’d been praying for that call for years. 

 

         Anton dated a lot of women in his first 10 years of sobriety. (Most of them he’s still friends with.) He dated 3 different women named Karen one right after the other, within a couple month span. None of them spelled their names the same, and none of them spelled it the classic way. K-a-r-e-n.  

         But then came Mari. I met her when I dropped by Anton’s house when they were first dating. It was an unplanned visit. Mari happened to be there. We all sat on the back patio and she turned to me at some point. “Would you like some chocolate soufflé? I whipped one up earlier”. She had no idea I would be coming over, just whipped up a soufflé for no reason other than it was a wonderful thing to do. She was beautiful, a great cook and loved The Smiths even more than I do. I called Anton later that night. “Marry her. You’re never gonna do better.” Eleven years later I stand by that statement. He’d be so fucked without her. 

 

Anton and Mari - NYC 2018

         When Mari first began telling Lisa and I about this thing Anton was experiencing, the symptoms were vague.

         “He slurs his speech. His balance is off, sometimes he falls.” She told us. 

         It wasn’t lost on me that those are the very same symptoms of an alcoholic in relapse. I thought Anton was drinking again.

 

         But he wasn’t. I wish like hell it was from drinking. That’s fixable. ALS isn’t. 


         ALS is this hideous disease that destroys a person a day at a time. Right in front of your eyes. And there’s nothing anyone can do. And I’m angry about that. Heartbroken. I know we don’t talk about how unfair ALS is. Anton and Mari probably can’t. How could they bear to get through their days if they focused on the unfairness of it? They don’t. They focus on love and laughter and advocating for others, people with ALS who will come after them. 

         They don’t talk about the unfairness, but I’m going to. It’s SO FUCKING UNFAIR. It’s a cruel disease that robs these people I love of a life they earned. A life they were meant to have. As a family, they did everything right. And it’s just not fucking fair. There, I said it. Someone had to. 

 

         Somehow the four of us still laugh. The other day we were in Anton’s hospital room. The muted TV high up on the wall had the Olympic track trials on. One of us made the comment on how short the shorts were on the women. Anton tried to respond but we couldn’t understand what he was saying. He kept trying.

         “WREE,” he yelled through gasped breaths. 

         “We?” I asked. 

         He shook his head no. He was frustrated. He tried over and over to get us to understand him.

         “Who’s Val to me?” He asked Mari.

         “Your sister?” He nodded. 

         We all looked at him, still not getting it. Then he turned to me.

         “Between balls and ass.” He said between coughs.

         “Taint?” I asked.

         “Yeah, taint.”

         Then he said something and it was all mumbled jumble again. Finally Lisa put it together.

         “Re Sister Taint. Resistant. The shorts are short because of wind resistance.” She said proudly. He nodded gleefully. Happy he finally got us to understand. It was quite an accomplishment. He wasn’t about to quit until we did.

         “Well, that's the first word, what’s the rest of the sentence?” I said. And then like we’ve done a thousand times, we all laughed for a few minutes straight. 

 

         People keep saying to me, “It’s so wonderful what you guys are doing for Anton and Mari.” I wish they wouldn’t say that. I know their intent is good but it bothers me. Mostly for this reason. I have never had a friend who has been there more for me than Anton Maillie. Not even close. He’s been there every step of the way, whenever we needed anything, he’s the first one there. And he’s been that for many people. Yeah, he’s stubborn. Yeah, he has flaws. He’s human. But he’s the best friend I’ve ever had. And even in the state he’s in now. In the hospital with pneumonia. In his little gown. Unable to call or even yell for a nurse if he’s alone. He can’t even push the goddamned emergency button if he needs to. In this state he said to Lisa and me the other day. “It must be so hard on you guys having to watch me go through this.”

         Of course, it took him almost 20 minutes to say it, but that’s beside the point.

 

         If you’re wondering where God is in all of this. I’ve wondered that too. I don’t believe in a God that grants wishes, like a genie or Santa Claus. If you’ve been praying for God to cure Anton of his ALS, I think it’s a waste of time. That would be nice but if God could do that, why does ALS even exist in the first place?

         But I do believe in the Grace of God. I believe that when you’re stricken with one of life’s absolute horror shows, God’s Grace is there so you don’t have to go through it alone. You don’t have to earn it or even ask for it. That’s where the Grace comes in. And ALS is one of those horrors. The worst of the worst. But I believe through all the calamity and shit show Anton and Mari have to suffer through, God is there. I believe that we, the people who love them, are the manifestation of that Grace, and we are indeed here with them, so they don’t have to go through it alone.