Ms. Margulies,
First and foremost, let me just say that I’m a huge fan. I grew up watching my mother watch ER. I’ve seen Staten Island twice. I’m sure The Good Wife is swell.1 And while I was originally irked upon hearing that you were going to be the commencement speaker for the SLC class of 2010, I was very much impressed with how great your hair looked on the day. Sure, the class of ’09 had Rahm Emanuel, but who really cares about politics these days? And 2011 is having a send off from Arianna Huffington, but did she make out with George Clooney? I don’t think so.
Your speech was both poignant and down to earth as you bestowed us with the important lesson of keeping your artistic integrity when faced with difficult choices. Your prime example—when you had to choose between being paid twenty five million dollars to do ER for three more years and leaving to do Broadway plays and independent films—was felt deep down throughout the entire audience of young adults entering the working world during an economic recession. We knew on that day that we too would have to make similar choices between priorities, like holding out to find a job we can feel passionate about or eating. I thought of when your father gave you the advice, “Julianna, you have so much money; and you are already so famous—when is enough enough?”2 just last week when I was on the phone with my foster father discussing how I was ever going to pay off my student loans and he said to me, “Misha, don’t become a prostitute. That can be dangerous. What you need is a sugar daddy—just one person you have to take care of.”3
And although things can sometimes look grim when making those tough decisions, I can look back to your story for that beacon of hope needed. Your gamble, which could have cost you many future summer homes, ended up paying off. You stared in a string of on stage productions, independent films, and were the voice of the female lead of the 2000 animated film “Dinosaur.” And then, as you said, “Nine years later after leaving ER, lightning struck twice” and you were offered yet another leading role in a broadcast television series. But of course even then life is not always easy, as your priorities were once again placed at a crossroad. You were able to share with us the valuable lesson of choosing your life over your career, once you already firmly have both, in discussing your difficult decision to initially turn The Good Wife down for the sake of not relocating your family to Los Angeles from New York. You put your family first and were actually rewarded for it when CBS then decided to have production of the show move to New York.4 Which, when you think about it, then brought that inspirational message you gave us to everyone else attached to The Good Wife at that point in time, as dozens of people then had to choose to leave their families, relocate their families, or be unemployed. You can’t put a price on the invaluable lesson a decision like that teaches someone.5
It goes without saying that you immediately became the voice of the class of 2011 and a mentor to my generation. But if I had one request—just one thing I would change about your address—it would be in regards to the fact that I would have wanted to hear a little bit more about your life before you had to contemplate those compromises. I would have wanted to know how you saw the world before lighting struck the first time.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that lightning struck. Thunderclouds make up the large majority of most inspirational stories. I don’t think any conversation I’ve had in Los Angeles would be complete without phrases such as “I was really lucky,” “I was in the right place at the right time,” “I’ve been really blessed,” and “This has no real relevance to you whatsoever.”6 But surely there was a time after graduation from Sarah Lawrence and before ER where you had rent to pay, wasn’t there? Before you left a hit TV show because you wanted to move on to other things, did you ever have a desk job you felt trapped in but couldn’t leave because nothing else was out there for you?
Did you ever worry that you weren’t talented or attractive enough; that you didn’t have enough connections, nepotism, or money to get your foot in the door? Did every other person twice your age tell you how you remind them of themselves when they first started out, before reaching 40 and realizing the dream just wasn’t going to happen? Did you worry that you weren’t going to be able to achieve your goals no matter how hard you tried, simply because you were you and not somebody else? And seriously, did sex work never, ever, kinda-sorta seem like a good idea, even just for a moment? I mean, I know Craigslist wasn’t around back then, but still.
I really do congratulate you on The Good Wife. In a world where scripted shows are becoming extinct, I’m glad a sophisticated show with a strong female lead is on the air—even if it’s on CBS. And I really did grow up watching you; you were the pretty curly-haired lady my mother liked to watch while I played with my fire trucks in the background.7 Watching you speak was indeed surreal, and not just because I hadn’t slept in two days prior to that moment. Were I to ever see you again in person, I would pray you haven’t actually read this, as it should really be an open letter to storm clouds about how I hate them, and how after they strike their victims seem to forget there was ever life before electricity.
Though, to be realistic, if you ever met me you wouldn’t know who the hell I was. But I would totally make a joke about hooking on Craigslist and gauge your response. Just to see.
Sincerely and hopefully not too mean spirited,
Misha D.
1 Seriously, I’m pretty sure if I watched it, I would really like The Good Wife.
2 Actual quote.
3 Yeah, also an actual quote.
4 So I guess lightning struck thrice. It probably just rains a lot in general after you win an Emmy.
5 Except maybe the price of their mortgage.
6 That last quote may be more implied than actually said.
7 Let’s be real: My Little Ponies.