It's Kind of a Long Story... about BEN AFFLECK

Yes, that's a cupcake cape

Hey Drama Goblins!

I’m going to lighten the mood, and as I promised my Facebook community I would, tell the Ben Affleck story. It’s more than a story, it’s a legend!

And, for those who followed the Therapy Trilogy I do have a bit of an update. I had another session with Dr. Plaid, and… she’s great. We talk like normal people. She laughs and asks good questions and remembers details from week to week and no lie, was wearing yet another plaid shirt.

I told her how grateful I was to have found someone I connect with. She said she was so glad she could be helpful and, “I’m curious what my nickname will be on your Substack.” I said, “You already have one. It’s Dr. Plaid!”

She cracked up, looked down at her shirt, and said, “That’s perfect! I do like to wear plaid!”

It’s not only good for me to have a good therapist, but it’s validating that the bad ones were bad. I’m not the problem. It’s not me.

It's a ray of hope I need that I’ll find my way forward from this uncertain phase I’m in.

A friend said, “You are in a hard place now. It won’t be forever.”

I said, “It feels like I’ve been saying that to myself for a very long time.”

Every little win, every good choice, and every time I hit “publish” on this thing I move another step forward.

I’m so glad you’re here,

-Lara

A Few of Her Favorite Things

Short story: 

Ben Affleck accidentally stumbled into my Aunt Ruthy’s 85th birthday party. He didn’t stay long, but he stayed long enough for me to get a photo and a good story.

Long story:

My Aunt Ruthy was auntie Mame-meets-Jewish Grandma with a big house, big personality and big heart.

When she passed away I wrote:

My Aunt Ruthy has gone on to whatever's next.

She was an adventurer, baker, hostess, philanthropist, businesswoman, connector, hugger, dancer, painter, knitter, mother, wife, daughter, sister, grandmother, aunt, friend, volunteer, fundraiser, and neighbor. She lost her father, brother, husband, and daughter before their time, but never stopped living life to the fullest. Her generosity - in every sense of the word - meant more to me than I can ever express.

She was the matriarch of a sprawling family and community connected by blood, marriage, friendship and a shared vision for a world free of cancer.

She was the maker and keeper of the houses, the homes, the physical spaces where we gathered to celebrate, to connect, to carry on traditions, to build memories, and sometimes, like today, to mourn.

Chances are if you've known me for any length of time, you've heard an Aunt Ruthy story. There are many, and they are treasured. To have had her example and guidance, and the things she made possible, has been a gift.

The only thing she loved more than a party was being the center of attention, so her birthday celebrations were epic. Her 50th was at the Santa Monica Pier Carousel. Her 75th was at a glamourous downtown LA art deco nightclub and we all dressed in black tie and vintage finery. For her 90th, 150 people partied in a fancy hotel ballroom. Including Berry “Founder of Motown” Gordy. Who knew she was friends with Berry Gordy?

Her 85th birthday party was at her home, a big, fancy house in the ritzy Brentwood area of LA. The theme was “Ruthy’s Favorite Things.” She had lived a life with so many adventures, hobbies, and passions there was a lot to choose from.

One of them was baking. She made cakes for every family party, and dozens of weddings. For several years I would come down to LA a day or two early to help make the 20+ Rosh Hashanah desserts. I’m so glad I did. She could be very… particular, and I was honored to have earned her respect and trust in the kitchen.

My Uncle Marty gave her the Nickname, “Ladycake.” It was her personalized license plate and email.

So when I heard the theme and the scheme to all dress up, I immediately knew I would go as “Ladycake: The Super Baker!”

I found cupcake fabric and got a few yards of pink satin and with my limited sewing skills, came up with a pretty cute costume.

My husband John dressed as John Wayne and my son Max dressed as a doctor in honor of her dedication and philanthropic support of the John Wayne Cancer Institute.

The name badge on Max’s jacket read, “Dr. Oncologist”

On the day of the party, we gathered in the foyer as guests were arriving. AR was still in her dressing room getting ready.

I greeted cousins and aunts and uncles and family friends and was standing by the stairs with Max and John when all of a sudden, I saw a tall, good-looking man walk in.

Before I clocked him as Affleck, I knew he was somebody. The height. That handsome face. Which at the moment had a very confused look on it.

My cousin Sharon, dressed in a full-on safari get-up with a pith helmet and stuffed tiger around her shoulders (Aunt Ruthy was an adventurous world traveler) absentmindedly greeted him. She later told me, “I didn’t recognize him. All I was thinking was, ‘Who is this guy, and where am I going to seat him?”

He said to her, “I’m sorry I’m not in costume.”

Our dear family friend Ann-Sheree, dressed like an artist with a paint-splattered smock, beret, brush, and pallet (Aunt Ruthy was also a painter) overheard him and said, “Don’t worry about a costume, you’re YOU!”

She’s a West Marin hippie totally out of touch with pop culture and had no idea who he was.

By then I had figured out who he was but had no idea what he was doing there. Berry Gordy aside, my Aunt had nothing to do with the entertainment industry. Was Ben Affleck one of her favorite things? Had someone known that and gotten him to come?

I asked my cousin Sophie, dressed like Aunt Ruthy as a young girl, “What is Ben Affleck doing at your grandmother’s birthday party?”

She said, “I have no idea.”

I said, “Well, I’m going to find out!”

Sophie, who looks almost exactly like her grandmother in the photo she has pinned to her sweater and Max, my son, who had already ditched his doctor’s coat.

By then, Ben was over at the bar, looking at his phone and furiously swiping. I walked up to him, touched him on the shoulder, and asked, “Ben Affleck, what are you doing at my Aunt Ruthy’s birthday party?”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be,” he said, “I’m supposed to be at an event about Anorexia and eating disorders. I saw the doctors out front and figured this was the right house.”

Like Max, a few of the other guests were also dressed as doctors. My cousin Steve was one of them and later told me Affleck had come up to him in the front yard and said, “Hi, I’m Ben.” Steve shook his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Steve” and then just walked away.

On the one hand, it’s kinda dumb, right? Doctors don’t wear their lab coats to fundraisers or social events. On the other hand, I felt for the big lug. I’m sure he was supposed to be the guest of honor wherever he was supposed to be, and here not only is nobody welcoming him, but they’re all wearing weird costumes.

Back at the bar, he shows me the address on his phone and I tell him, “You’re on the right street, but it’s not the right house. Now that we’ve figured that out, can we take a picture?”

He said, “Sure” and posed with me in the doorway. I did this thing I do where I put my hand across his chest and damn if his jacket didn’t feel like butter! It must have been cashmere or vicuna or some other exotic and expensive wool. And yes, he smelled gooooood.

My mom snapped a pic, he smiled and left, and I turned around to my stunned family and called out, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Academy Award winner Mr. Ben Affleck!” Which I’m sure he heard…

Back in 2014, I wasn’t as chronically online as I am in 2024. I posted the photo Facebook with an enigmatic caption, and left my phone in the guestroom while I enjoyed the rest of the party.

After the party, there were dozens of confused comments and pleas for the story behind this ridiculous photo.

Affleck aside, the rest of the party was a lot of fun. I organized a bunch of cousins to sing a tribute to our Aunt Ruthy Weil to the tune of “Born to be Wild.”

And there was a three-foot-tall cake likeness of the birthday girl.

The only bummer is Aunt Ruthy missed the entire Affleck Encounter. She emerged from her bedroom looking like a million bucks to a house full of guests chattering about the just-departed surprise guest.

My family and I have gotten a lot of mileage out of that story. After we got home, John had some fun with PhotoShop

“Partygoers at this posh Brentwood bash honoring Ruth Weil’s 85th birthday were amazed when Oscar Winner Ben Affleck showed up. He immediately plucked cupcake cutie Lara Starr out of the costumed crowd and forced her to pose for pictures with him. Witness wondered if his glassy-eyed look was a sign that that Argo auteur had fallen off the wagon, or simply fallen in love.”

“Car nut Affleck was snapped Sunday afternoon in his red 1966 Chevelle SS cruisin’ back and forth outside the residence where the part had been held the night before like some super famous Jake Ryan.* Witnesses report he asked every person about the “Cakey Lady” before rushing off at high speed when LA sheriffs arrived at the scene.”

(*I think John meant Lloyd Dobbler, but I gave him credit for knowing who Jake Ryan was.)

“You, lovely, helpful dressed in some kind of cockamamie (sp?) cupcake costume. Me: Ben freakin’ Affleck. The way you touched me made me sure you know your way around dough. Please, please contact me immediately. Serafina needs two dozen cupcakes for her Baby Bikram class on Thursday. I’m sure you can help. Our pastry chef is vacationing in Beliz and Jennifer is useless in the kitchen. Tweet me maybe?”

And the following week, it was my own birthday. We had a tradition at work of staging surprise parties in our 4th-floor common space. When I came off the elevator, I was greeted by… the Affleck Army!

To this day, at our family seder, we set out the cup of Affleck. At the part of the service where you open the door to let in Elijah, you never know if Ben will be right behind him.

And then, a year later, Max wrote this for his poetry unit at school:

The Cupcake Queen

There she stands

Super baker

All over cupcakes and sweetness

Her smile warm as an oven

And her cooking timer laugh cut through the crowd

Up the drive, over the threshold

Head peeking above the crowd, a skyscraper in the clouds

Dark face, suit, look

A dark knight in the bright light

He’s confused, she doesn't notice

He is greeted, she doesn’t notice

He’s uncomfortable, she doesn’t notice

He’s at the bar

She notices

Fast walk, quick talk

A hand, a look

A picture, so soft

He leaves and I don’t know who he was

She stays, I know who she is

Know someone who would get something out of that story? Please share.

Lara sez…

Listen!

80s Deep Cut of the Week! This is a great song to sing LOUDLY in the car.

Read!

I’ve had the pleasure of working with Jonah Newman on his debut graphic novel, Out of Left Field, which I’ve been pitching as Heartstopper-meets-Bad News Bears. It’s a largely autobiographical story of coming out and coming into his own after he joins the high school baseball team because he thinks one of the players is cute.

Follow!

@AngelicaHicks is a hilarious and clever young woman who recreates runway and red carpet looks with household junk. Show posts little videos showing just how she does it The results are remarkable!

Watch!

I loved the movie Enough Said. I love every movie Nicole Holefcener directs. This is that rare bird, a non-insipid rom-com where the people act like real people. I especially love that Julia Louis-Dreyfus’ character is the villain. She makes a few real dick moves, but of course, is redeemed. Because rom-com.

Eat!

I’ve been trying to eat more protein and less fat and have gotten into PB2 peanut butter powder. I can’t deny a large part of the appeal is the novelty, but it’s also good as a dip for fruit, spooned into yogurt, or I must admit, sometimes eaten right from the jar with a spoon.

Before I let you go…

I’d love to ask you how a few questions about It’s Kind of a Long Story…