Goldie Hawn has a new movie coming out and was profiled on "CBS Sunday Morning" this week, so I was reminded of this hilarious "Washington Post" article -
Every year or two Goldie Hawn drives back to the brick duplex on the dead-end street in Takoma Park where she grew up. Sometimes she comes alone and sometimes with her sister Patti, or her old friend from childhood Jean Lynn, or her partner of 20 years, Kurt Russell. If there's no one home she finds a neighbor to let her in; once there was no neighbor around, so she sneaked in through a front window the owner had left unlocked, and then wandered around, through the kitchen where the family used to hang out, down to the basement, up to her old bedroom.
That someone else lives there and has for 23 years does not hinder this journey of self-discovery. In her new book, Hawn calls the current occupant "the nice lady I know who bought the house from Mom." And in an interview this week, she called her "Judy." Her name is actually Donna Wulkan. (Judy lives next door). Wulkan recently did a major renovation on the kitchen but she's afraid to break the news to Hawn, should she stop by again. "I think she would like it to look exactly like it always looked," Wulkan says....
Hawn was in town again this week to promote her book, "Goldie: A Lotus Grows in the Mud," and, although it may sound that way, Takoma Park is definitely not "the Mud" in the title. The book, which she insists is not a biography but a series of snapshots, could be seen as a love song to Takoma Park, her childhood sweetheart, the thing she needs to keep frozen in time so as not to lose the purity of her inner child....
Through her ugliest moments trying to make it, through two husbands and three children and dozens of houses somewhere out West, Takoma Park, and more specifically 9 Cleveland Ave., has remained "the Holy Grail of my Mind," she writes. Like all young loves, eventually it betrayed her, but even then she keeps going back.
During the recent kitchen renovation, Wulkan ripped down the wallpaper and discovered something: Scribbled on the wall were the messages the Hawns used to leave for each other, phone numbers, errand requests. Wulkan asked this reporter to pass on this news to Hawn along with her phone number. "I just want her to call me next time she wants to come visit," says Wulkan. "I mean, I'm not ready to call the U.S. attorney's office and say this entitled star is breaking into my house, but it would be nice if she called."
When Hawn heard the news about the message wall she was ecstatic; she framed her little face in her hands and screamed, flashing her widest rectangle smile. But she wasn't interested in the phone number, or any other current news about the house.