When David walked in, he stopped short and examined our handiwork.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he said, without a hint of irony.
“Really?” I said, unsure whether to laugh or scream.
“Yes,” he said.
He really and truly wanted to be treated like a king, not like a husband or father, which speaks volumes about what he was like to live with, as lovable as he could also be. His next wife, who was his fourth, has often remarked very publicly in the context of the show in which she is a regular cast member, The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, that David was her king. He subsequently asked me, “Why couldn’t you have treated me like a king?”
“Because I want a partnership, not a dictatorship,” I answered with conviction.
I guess his current monarchy failed, and he is now going through his fourth divorce. Maybe it’s time to just let go of that king thing?
David was very protective of his space and his belongings, and he watched over them jealously. Once we moved into Villa Casablanca, David didn’t like us having the boys’ friends over. I wanted to be the pizza mom with the house where the kids felt comfortable coming in, hanging out, watching TV, and playing video games. David did not agree with me.
“What are all these kids doing here?” David used to grouse when he got home.
All of David’s most challenging behavior seemed to come to a head every year at Christmas. His mood soured as the holiday approached, and when I tried to ask him about my ideas for gifts for the children, including his girls, he was likely to snipe at me. It was as if we were in competition about who was going to spend more, or do more, or buy the better present. I couldn’t believe he was getting so worked up about such silly, trivial matters, especially when we were doing quite well financially.
“We are both from modest means,” I said. “We have plenty of money to do for our family, and to do for our kids. Money is the last thing in the world we should argue about. And especially at Christmastime.”
And yet after usually acting out David was generous and thoughtful in his gift-giving to everyone.
The irony about the money was that it was not all his. I really enjoyed feeling like I brought something in, money-wise, to our relationship, so I made a point of continuing to work. I remained a regular cast member on Hee Haw until it was canceled in 1992. “I Have Nothing” from The Bodyguard earned us quite a bit over the years, as well as other collaborations, and the much-recorded and performed song “Grown-Up Christmas List.”
The bottom line, though, was that David didn’t enjoy the holidays, and he begrudged everyone the money that was spent, even on gifts for him, which took away from the pleasure of giving the gift in the first place. It wasn’t enough for David to hate Christmas. He seemed determined to ruin the holiday for everyone by pulling his disappearing act nearly every year. What kind of husband leaves on Christmas Eve? I thought more than once or twice.
Finally, one year, I bought him a Grinch suit and put it under the tree because it was so David at Christmas. To his credit, he exhibited his customary great sense of humor about the gift.
Villa Casablanca may have been a place that could produce tension between us but it also never failed to bring us back together through music. Thank God for the music. It was the language that David and I could always speak to each other, even when we were finding it challenging to reach accord in other areas. David had a home studio at Villa Casablanca and some of our happiest hours together were spent there.
All kinds of incredible stars came over to record with him. It was always a treat for me to interact with the singers and musicians, but perhaps my favorite musical guest was Whitney Houston, who sometimes came over with her then husband, Bobby Brown.
I was very fond of Whitney from our experience working together on the set of The Bodyguard. What struck me most about Whitney during filming was the fact that she was so sweet to my daddy. Even when she was pregnant with Bobbi Kristina, she went out of her way to go over and talk to him, and to give him a big hug, and make him feel very welcome on the set. Believe me, after decades of meeting people at all levels of fame, you notice things like that about people, how human they are, even in their stardom. Whitney always maintained her humility and humanity; her natural graciousness was a lovely thing to experience.
Bobby was always kind to my daddy, too. And when Whitney was pregnant, Bobby was very chivalrous with her. He was very protective of Whitney at all times. He would walk in front of her through the crowd, shielding her body with his own. Their connection clearly ran strong and deep. However dysfunctional their relationship may have been at times, they definitely loved each other. Looking at them together, you knew that she loved him, and he loved her.
And so, whenever I knew Whitney was coming over to record with David in the years that followed, I’d try to be around. And I’d go down to say hello when they took a break from working and went out to lounge in the studio’s living area. Bobby was usually with Whitney, and when they were relaxing together, their favorite activity was to watch The Jerry Springer Show. And they didn’t just watch it. They’d both be up in the middle of the floor, waving their arms, gesticulating, and yelling at the TV.
“What?! You can’t say that.”
“Don’t go back with him. Are you crazy?”
“What?! She’s pregnant with your best friend’s child?”
They got very passionate about repeating all of the crazy dialogue and trying to predict the show’s outcome.
It was the funniest thing imaginable to see this beautiful, elegant woman in the middle of the floor, waving her arms and yelling at the TV set.
“You’re crazy!” she shouted. “You can’t be with a man that would cheat on you with your own sister’s husband’s mother’s child.”
This was the earthy side of Whitney’s personality that many people didn’t know. There was the Whitney Houston onstage, who was stunning and composed, regal even. And then there was New Jersey Whitney Houston, who could get down and dirty and have a good laugh. I think that often such extremes come hand in hand with greatness. Sometimes the most brilliant people are just a jumble of conflicting impulses, paradoxical, unpredictable, and mercurial.
David and I continued to be asked to write high-profile songs, which allowed us to remain connected as collaborators and partners. In 1996, we were approached with an incredibly exciting opportunity: writing the theme for the Summer Olympics in Atlanta. David collaborated with Babyface on the music, and then it was time for me to pen the words to the song that became “Power of the Dream.”
In composing those lyrics, I drew heavily for inspiration from what Bruce had told me about his Olympic experience, including his quest to win the gold and how it felt the moment he was awarded his medal. And how he’d stood on the victory stand, elevated above everyone else. There was a line in our song that said, “Stand apart from all the rest,” which he did. He’d also told me how he’d looked around and taken mental snapshots. All of these details became lyrics.
David and I had the honor of attending the opening ceremony in Atlanta, where Celine Dion performed our song live. My sweet moment was short-lived, however, since when the ceremony was telecast, David and Babyface were given writing credit for the song, with no mention of my name.
“I’m really sorry about that,” David said.
I knew that neither David nor Babyface had intentionally tried to steal credit from me, but it was hard not to feel terribly slighted, since I was responsible for the lyrics that had clearly moved and uplifted a huge audience.
Olympic fever was in the air that summer, and David and I were invited to several events related to the games, including one where we found ourselves sitting across the aisle from Bruce and Kris. By this point, Bruce and I weren’t really talking anymore; in fact we hadn’t been for five years, as Bruce had fully descended into the Kardashian rabbit hole by then. But when I looked over during the event, I could see that Bruce knew and was singi
ng along to every word. I was honestly touched that he had listened to and derived some enjoyment from a song I had written, in part inspired by his own Olympic recollections.
Unfortunately, crossing paths with Bruce at that Olympic event did nothing to inspire him to reconnect with the boys. And, to my dismay, they continued to have much to forgive in their father’s continued distant behavior in the years to come.
When Bruce didn’t even respond to my invitation to attend Brandon’s high school graduation, Brandon understandably took it hard.
“Mom, what kind of a father doesn’t come to his son’s graduation?” he asked me.
“Honey, your dad may have been the world’s greatest athlete, physically, but emotionally, you have to view him in a wheelchair,” I meekly replied. “If he had emotional legs, he’d get up and walk to you, but he just doesn’t right now. Just try to understand him, love him, and forgive him.”
When Brody graduated from high school, Bruce and Kris finally responded to an invitation I sent them by actually coming. The graduating seniors had to stand and say something about their parents as they graduated. Brody only found out that Bruce and Kris were coming the night before the ceremony and he panicked.
“Mom … Dad and Kris are coming to my graduation,” he said.
“That’s wonderful.” I exclaimed.
“But I’m not at all comfortable with them coming, Mom,” Brody protested.
“Honey, I will kiss their butts,” I assured him. “I’ll be so nice to them to make everyone comfortable.”
“No, it’s not that at all, mom. I don’t want them to come. I have to say something about my parents, and I don’t even know Bruce well enough to say anything about him. What do I do?”
“Just do what you’re comfortable with, honey,” I said, my heart going out my son. “Speak about those you know well enough to comment on. It’s your day to celebrate, and you shouldn’t have to feel pressured to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Brody ended up thanking me for always being there for him and showing him unconditional love, and he thanked David for inspiring him. He kept it brief and sat back down. Those are the times you never forget.
Brandon and Brody will never have those “Hallmark memories” of father-and-son moments. They were saddened by Bruce’s lack of participation in their lives, and my heart ached for them. But I never spoke an unkind word about Bruce to the boys, and I always counseled them to forgive their father for his limitations. One analogy I love is that staying angry with someone is like drinking poison and expecting the object of your anger to die. And so I cling to the belief that everything is forgivable; some things are inexcusable, but everything is forgivable.
For the record, I saved letters to Bruce imploring him to call his sons, see them, come to their sporting games, and just be involved in their lives. I know how hurtful it must have been for Brandon and Brody to have to view, later on TV, the notoriously public participation of Bruce fathering the four Kardashian children, and the two daughters that he and Kris had together. (Of course, it was through no fault of the children themselves.) He publicly boasted about driving car pool for them, preparing lunches, having fatherly advice sessions on camera for all to see, while Brandon and Brody were left to wonder why Bruce wasn’t there for them.
Though I commend Bruce for being a good stepfather and a good father to the children with whom he lived, he had four other children who would have loved to have him participate in their lives, too. Forgivable, but inexcusable, behavior.
In 1997, I had the honor of penning words to be sung by two of the premier female singers of our time, Barbra Streisand, who was a dear friend, and Celine Dion. The two dulcet divas had decided to sing a duet together and David and Walter Afanasieff had been approached to write the music and produce. When they tapped me to handle lyrical duties, I had a creative brainstorm of which I remain extremely proud. Rather than pitting the two greats against each other with a “You stole my man”–themed song, I decided to put Barbra in the role of the more experienced mentor to the younger Celine, who approaches her for romantic advice in the first verse. I knew both women well enough to know they would not wish to be singing about competition or rancor, but rather about the strength of female friendships. They both demonstrate their dedication to cultivating a community of strong women in their everyday lives.
Together, the two women joined voices and forces in a triumphant celebration of the power to be found in daring to be vulnerable and emotive, even when the man in the relationship is not being demonstrative of his affection. It was a thrill to hear my lyrics to “Tell Him” delivered by such incredible talents, and then to take part in filming a video for the song, which became an international sensation, going gold and platinum across Europe, and earning a Grammy nomination for Best Pop Collaboration with Vocals.
I continued to write a number of songs with collaborators other than David, and in 1995, I heard from our friend Kevin Costner that he was working on a new movie, Tin Cup, a love story involving a down-on-his-luck golf pro. I penned lyrics to go with a melody written by Steve Dorff, which ultimately became “This Could Take All Night,” a very sultry song that playfully alludes to sex. That same year, I cowrote a song, “Where Do We Go from Here?” for the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie Eraser, also starring Vanessa Williams, who recorded the song for the soundtrack.
At the same time, David and I continued our work together as well. In 1998, he was introduced to a brilliant young singer, Josh Groban, by his then vocal coach. David and I were both struck by Josh’s immense talent, and I immediately liked him as a person, too. I was a little surprised at the kismet of life to learn that he’d been in Brandon’s class at Malibu Presbyterian Sunday school, and his mother even turned up a photo of the boys at Sunday school together, both wearing little Superman capes. Such is the remarkable serendipity in life’s ebbs and flows.
David asked Josh to be his rehearsal singer when he was preparing to play at the 1999 Grammy Awards. Josh sang a duet with Celine in place of Andrea Bocelli, who was not able to be present for the practice performance. Although Josh did not perform on the televised ceremony that night, the show’s host, Rosie O’Donnell, caught him during the rehearsal and was so impressed with his voice that she asked him to be a guest on her show. This performance in turn caused him to be discovered by television producer David E. Kelley, who had a major hit at the time with Ally McBeal. David wrote a part specifically for Josh that allowed him to perform on the show. Josh did so well that he returned for a second episode, again written around my song. Josh performed, “To Where You Are,” which I’d penned with Richard Marx. This was a 9/11-themed episode that attempted to express even a modicum of the stunned grief we were all feeling in the wake of that national tragedy.
Watching this young man David and I had admired and believed in try to salve the aggrieved hearts of millions of people I’d never met was powerful for me. I’d actually written the song as an expression of my own grief, after being inspired to do so by Richard’s haunting melody. When he’d originally sent me a tape of his music, I was lying out by my pool, feeling my way into the song and the lyrics I would write. As I usually did, I was listening for the message the melody was trying to impart, so I could structure the lyrics accordingly, whether that ended up being a love song, a song about heartbreak, or a song about familial joy. As I heard the notes, I began thinking about the loss of Elvis and my mother, and the extreme, engulfing grief I’d felt on both occasions. That’s what the music was telling me to write about.
When I spoke to Richard, he told me to go for it. His father had just passed away, and perhaps I had felt his heartache in his melody. I wrote the lyrics from the source of those deeply personal emotions, and I felt honored when my words were used to convey a cultural moment of grief on a much larger scale.
Josh not only recorded a version of my song for his debut album; it was also his first big hit, topping the Billboard Hot Adult Contemporary Chart for two weeks i
n August 2002. All in all, it went on to spend a total of thirty-six weeks on the chart.
I resolved to continue writing songs, often inspired by the most important moments in my life, and by doing so, to hopefully resonate with others in their significantly poignant moments as well. I can’t think of a more perfect example of this phenomenon than my song, “Who Could Ever Love You More?” which I wrote with Steve Dorff. Steve composed the music, and when he first played me the melody while we were seated together at his piano, I knew immediately what the song was about.
“I’m going to write this about my sons,” I said.
The lyric I wrote could easily be called “Every Mother’s Lullaby” and is a tribute to the power of parental love and devotion. In 2001, our dear friend and frequent collaborator Celine Dion and her husband, René, had their first son, René-Charles. In celebration of their own miraculous experience, and upon hearing “Who Could Ever Love You More,” Celine and René were inspired and conceived a multimedia project that included an album of lullabies, a calendar, and a book celebrating babies, with images by the Australian photographer Anne Geddes. Celine and René wanted to title their project Miracle and asked me if they could call the song “Miracle—Who Could Ever Love You More.”
Through Celine’s exquisite vocals, it would go on to touch millions of other mothers and fathers. The album went platinum in the United States and was nominated for several Canadian music awards, including the Juno.
Though I continued to branch out and have repeated success, writing songs with Richard Marx, Steve Dorff, and many others, David and I continued to have a special gift for writing together. Such was the case in 2002, when we were approached to pen a number for a Ronald McDonald Children’s House Special that was being filmed for television. As always, David and I were keen to do work on behalf of a worthwhile charitable organization, especially one that benefited children. He wrote the music, and I the lyrics, for a song that would be called “Aren’t They All Our Children?”
A Little Thing Called Life Page 36