I’d never been so excited. Standing in line, my legs were bouncing so fast I was basically hopping. I’m not usually wowed by celebrities, but when I learned my idol, Dick Van Dyke, was taking photos with fans, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.
As I reached the front, I was trying to decide what to say to the legendary actor. “I love your work,” seemed too pedestrian. “I love you!” was creepy. As the options swirled in my head, it occurred to me that this was how kids feel waiting to meet Santa Claus. And maybe Van Dyke is a little like Santa: white hair, rosy cheeks, jolly and wholesome. I’ve always thought there was something about him that seemed a little bit magic.
I’m almost seven decades younger than Van Dyke, who recently turned 100, but I’ve always adored him. Growing up in Los Angeles, I loved watching “Mary Poppins” and “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang,” but my favorite was “The Dick Van Dyke Show.”
I loved watching Van Dyke’s character, Rob Petrie, manage hijinks at work and home. He adored his wife, Laura (played by Mary Tyler Moore), and brought that goofy, fun, don’t-take-yourself-so-seriously charm to almost every scene.
“Hi-lo,” I said when I got to the front of the line, caught between “Hi” and “Hello.”
“How do you do?” I think he said, but I couldn’t be sure. In my excitement, my senses were failing me.
“Smile!” A man behind the camera instructed. I posed, then shuffled out of the booth, trying not to say another embarrassing word. I collected my 8-by-10-inch picture and held it like a treasure. At home, I proudly displayed it in my living room.
Years later, I was married with a toddler when I came across the framed picture in a box. Life had been so busy, I couldn’t remember the last time I sat down and watched my favorite actor. I turned on “Mary Poppins” for my daughter — and for me. Of course, she loved it.
The next day, I bought Van Dyke’s audiobook “My Lucky Life In and Out of Show Business” and started listening to it during long drives in city traffic. I couldn’t believe how little I knew about his life.
I learned about his time in the Air Force, the years he tried to find his place as a performer, his alcoholism and the times he struggled to pay rent. I loved the book, impressed by Van Dyke’s vulnerability.
But then I got to the part about his divorce.
After being married for three decades, Van Dyke began an affair in the 1970s. He talked about how the relationship and other factors ended his marriage. I guess I knew Van Dyke had been married more than once, but hearing him talk about this part of his life was surprisingly painful.
Reflexively, I swatted the off button on my car stereo. It was like hearing my own dad talk about an affair. I just didn’t want to hear it.
For days, I felt angry, even betrayed. I knew it wasn’t fair to feel this way. I knew I was being irrational. But I’d held onto a vision of Van Dyke as this great, funny, wholesome person.
I come from a long line of divorced couples. My parents were divorced, as were both sets of my grandparents and even some great-grandparents. I knew “The Dick Van Dyke Show” wasn’t real, but I liked to think that there was some truth to the charming, devoted marriage I grew up watching. Van Dyke and the show gave me hope that my future marriage wouldn’t succumb to my apparent family curse.
I felt deflated. I guess Van Dyke wasn’t as wholesome as I’d imagined.
Maybe I was extra sensitive — or extra bitter. I was a few years into my own marriage, and being married was harder than I expected. I guess I thought most of the work was picking the right person. So I’d been very careful when choosing a husband. I found someone smart and fun who made me laugh. And we didn’t rush into marriage; we dated for years. I looked at his character, keeping an eye on the way he’d talk to friends and strangers. I studied the way he treated me when I was sick or overwhelmed. I could’ve written a thesis on his personality. By the time we got engaged, I was certain about him.
But pandemic stressors took me by surprise. Child-rearing, while wonderful, brought out new sides of us that weren’t there when we were dating. I thought that with all my caution up front, things would be a breeze. But changing diapers, juggling deadlines and trying to make room for each other was hard.
Also, my subconscious model for marriage wasn’t real. I’d tried not to replicate my family members’ unions, and in that vacuum, I clung to a TV show. It felt ridiculous. Perfect relationships aren’t real. And neither is Rob Petrie.
I went to therapy. My husband and I went to therapy together. Some days felt like everything was going great, while others left me frustrated and exhausted. We kept trying to make it work.
One day, I was driving my preschooler to a library story time when I clicked Van Dyke’s audiobook again. Marriage seemed especially impossible. As I listened to Van Dyke talk about the end of his first marriage, I found myself feeling strangely protective of my husband and our relationship.
I didn’t want to give up.
Thinking back, I respect Van Dyke’s inclusion of his divorce, and everything else, in the book. I’m sure it’s not easy to write about the end of a marriage and to share the details with the public.
Back in college, when my husband and I were newly dating, we went to Disneyland to see an annual holiday choir show during which a celebrity read the story of the first Christmas. That night, the celebrity was Van Dyke.
I remember I’d admitted to my husband that I dreaded Christmas every year. It always reminded me of my parents arguing over how to split my time (Christmas Eve here, Christmas Day there) and how I hated spending my holiday on the road. Even as a kid, I couldn’t relate to excitement over Christmas spirit or Santa Claus.
That night, hearing Van Dyke speak, I felt so happy, at peace and in love. There was something powerful and beautiful in the air. Something that felt a little like magic.
If we’re lucky, we’ll live a long life. Maybe even reach a 100th birthday. But in that time, we’re going to make mistakes. We’re going to change. Not all partnerships will last.
All we can do is hope to find someone we like, who makes us laugh and helps us feel, even just once in a while, that there’s magic in the world.
The author is a freelancer, a teacher and a mom of three. She lives in Orange County. You can find her on Instagram: @jillianpretzelwriter.
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This story originally appeared on LA Times
