I started a video blog last week, but I think now that having two blogs is too much.
We first met in my parent’s living room and even then you seemed taller than I. Your sitcom father had saved you and your brother from some implied lesser fate, but even then you seemed a guest in your own home. You as Arnold fought assimilation every step of the way, always too clever for what was good for you, the running gag of your life.
Choosing to play your second act as a mere mortal, we were amazed that you deemed to have the same problems as us, although your challenges were far greater. For every day a mindless machine reminded you of your dependence. The world was built for taller men, for whiter men, for healthier men than you.
And then life wrote you out of the show using a hastily written plot device that no one seriously believed. Did life get tired of you asking for more money? Were you difficult to work with?
While painting at the Rio Hotel in Las Vegas I met your TV sister, a face parked over the shoulder as many before but instantly recognizable. “I’m Dana Plato,” she said. “and I really like your portraits.” I hope, Gary, that she likes your portrait as well.
Gary Coleman Memorial Pancake - Ebay Art Auction
