When I was 23, I followed Gwen from civilized Massachusetts to a remote cattle ranching area in the high cold sagebrush desert of northern Nevada, where she taught me to ride horses and make films, showing me that life could be way more interesting than I ever imagined. Now in her 70s, Gwen is as lively as she was back then. It takes my heart to see her 20-something year old Japanese boarder as awestruck by Gwen as I was at her age.
At dinner a few weeks ago, this Japanese woman was the youngest person at the table of older people drinking and talking loudly in English, a language she doesn’t understand all that well. She should have been bored, looking at her phone, but I saw how Gwen’s lively command of the room fascinated her, how she wanted to know how to do that and I remembered feeling that way myself. It makes my heart feel good to see that that Gwen is a shining light for a new generation of less confident people trying to make their way into the world.
Last week, during the Q&A after a screening of a narrative feature film I directed, the moderator asked, “Were you ever afraid or uncertain when you were shooting this film?”
I had to think for a minute, but my answer was “No.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m tough.”
The lead actress chimed in, “I never felt a moment of uncertainty from her. She was always sure of herself.”
It takes my heart that the faltering person lured by Gwen from Massachusetts to Nevada became someone who could say that she was not afraid.