A Salami Occasion

          Our church does a really cool thing.  It runs a four-year program of daily religious study for high school kids, starting at 6:20 a.m. before their regular class schedule.  And they attend.  In droves.   

          You can imagine the discipline and commitment it takes. So it’s quite a big deal to get a four-year pin and a diploma. And right now, in early June, is when they have Seminary Graduation.

          However, the one thing Seminary cannot do is remove the monkey gene, if your kid has one.  And naturally, my mind goes back to the graduation ceremony of our son, Cassidy, when he achieved this honor ten years ago.  

          First, picture it.  We are all sitting in the chapel pews, dressed up for the occasion, excited to see him walk up when his name is called.  One by one other kids go up, receive their diplomas and pins, shake hands with a member of the Stake Presidency, and march confidently back to their seats.

          And then the speaker opens the next leather-bound diploma, and WITH A STRAIGHT FACE says into the mike, “Cassidy Thadwell Hilton the third, Junior.”

          Are you kidding me?  This solemn occasion, the culmination of four years of hard work, and our kid submits a fake name?  And they print it up and let him get away with it?

          Now, mind you, the speaker knows us.  He knows that if Cassidy is a junior, his father must have the same name, right?  But it’s Bob.  And nobody in the history of mankind, I believe, has ever been named “the third, junior.”  Thadwell is also a contrivance.

          There’s some snickering and I can feel my face reddening as people turn to stare at us. Yet our monkey boy is on his feet, proudly marching up to receive this bogus document.

          And he's apparently still up to his antics.  For one thing, I keep getting junk mail for “Gustav” Hilton and “Spanky” Hilton.  Hey, for all I know he faked his own birth certificate.  I wouldn’t put it past him.

Have you seen my YouTube Mom videos?  This is what happens after you raise four comedians.

I Scream, You Scream

          It’s summer.  It’s hot.  It’s time for ice cream.  Those three sentences follow in absolutely logical order, if you ask me.

          And I once had the thrill of a lifetime, by getting to tour a Dreyer’s Ice Cream plant in Texas.  This rich ice cream is labeled “Edy’s” in the East, so you know we’re talking crème de la crème, folks.  And it all happened thanks to our son, Cassidy.

          First, in case you’re new to this blog, I must tell you that I often enter recipe contests and cook-offs.  And it’s been an absolute kick to win trips, appliances, furniture, and cash.  So a few years ago, one of our sons (then age 10) followed in his mom’s footsteps and entered a Dreyer’s Grand Ice Cream contest called “Invent Jeff’s Next Flavor,” one Jeff Gordon of Nascar, would personally select.  Dreyer’s listed the basic things Jeff liked, and Cassidy came up with Cool Fuel, a “cool minty ice cream with streaks of fudge and injected with almonds.”

          Out of 8,000 entries, Cass was selected as one of five finalists!  And the only child in the competition.  He was able to bring a couple of friends and we all got to tour the ice cream plant in Texas.  Oh. My. Goodness. 

It turns out that the peak moment of flavor is just before they freeze it for shipping, when it’s still soft.  They let us sample wonderful flavors, using the lids as a spoon.  Once it’s in the supermarkets, it will never be at such a perfect, soft state again.  This is the stuff of heavenly dreams, folks. 

          Then they allowed each contestant to whip up their idea in the kitchen.  It was glorious.  

That evening Jeff went down the line.  After he had tasted them all, he pointed to Cassidy’s, and said, “I really like that one,” at which point the man in charge pulled him aside and soon Jeff was choosing a similar one, but not Cassidy’s.  When I inquired about this later, I was told that the public doesn’t always like “particulate matter” in ice cream, and the “other” one was virtually the same as Cassidy’s, but without the almonds.  I chose not to make a stink about it, declaring a moral victory as it were, and then we were whisked off to an actual Nascar race.

          Well… it turns out you can’t enter the pit area if you’re underage, so there we were, disappointed again.  We had to wander around the parking area where drivers kept their motorhomes, as the other contestants got to see things up close.  But then—as if heaven decided to make things right—we happened to be near Jeff Gordon’s gigantic trailer and his top mechanics let us have a complete tour of his digs!  It was awesome.  I was particularly impressed with drawers and drawers of perfectly organized, labeled tools for the mechanics to use.  They showed us the whole place and even opened the fridge. This was a VIP tour unlike any the other contestants were experiencing. We were in Jeff Gordon’s home on wheels! The boys’ eyes twinkled with delight.

          So, even though Cassidy’s picture didn’t end up on an ice cream carton, we had a fabulous time and an unforgettable taste of this glorious confection at its absolute best.  I call that a win-win.

          Speaking of Cassidy’s picture, here’s how he looks today, hosting That Late Show, which you can watch here.

And, while you’re enjoying a creamy bowl of frozen wonder, why not read my latest novel, GOLDEN, which you can order on Amazon or Kindle.   And if you’re out of ice cream, make your own in a baggie!  Watch my YouTube Mom video here, where I show you how.

That Late Show

          I am watching destiny unfold.  I told you in an earlier blog that our son, Cassidy, was fated for entertainment.  Yes, when he was just three years old one of his friend’s moms said, “That kid is hilarious.  I mean, he even has timing!  It’s incredible.”  And I said, “I think he’s going to be the next Johnny Carson.”

          And, sure enough, he’s now hosting That Late Show on YouTube, interviewing other YouTube stars.  It seems the latest crop of celebrities are the people with mega-humongous followings on YouTube.  Cassidy’s most recent episode features the wildly popular IISuperwomanII, Lilly Singh, who literally has a billion hits and millions of subscribers. You absolutely must watch this interview here:

          And here’s a little inside info.  Cassidy does a take-off on Let’s Make a Deal in this show, calling it, Shall We Make a Deal?  being sure to thank his “announcer,” whom he calls “Bob.”

          Well, this is a reference to St. Bob, of course, who actually did host Let’s Make a Deal for NBC, back in the 90s, and whose genes are now in full flower again as his son steps into his dad’s talk show/game show shoes. Yes, the coconut did not fall far from the tree, but I would like to take credit for how great he looks in Lilly’s new line of lipstick, Bawse, at the end of the show.

And, if you’d like to see our kid every week, subscribe to his channel here!

Red Carpet Mama

          This is my kid walking the red carpet last week at a Grauman’s Chinese Theatre premiere in Hollywood:

          This is Lilly Singh, aka Superwoman and YouTube sensation, also on that same red carpet:

If you are not already one of her 8 million followers on YouTube, or one of the billion people who have viewed her posts, I will tell you who she is.  She’s a 27-year-old Canadian rock star, rapper, motivational speaker, singer, and comedian who has a Justin Bieber-type following of screaming teens. And our son, Cassidy, just helped film her world tour.

It’s called “A Trip to Unicorn Island,” and Lilly recently told Jimmy Kimmel about it here:

Cass and crew went to Mumbai, Toronto, London, and I forget where else, to film this YouTube star in action.  The entire docu-movie is on YouTubeRed, but here’s just a preview:

Normally I wouldn’t brag so unabashedly, but I have unexpectedly garnered a bit of cachet, just by being the mother of a guy who knows Lilly Singh.  Last week I was substitute teaching in a high school language arts class, and saw a group of teenage girls in a cluster, chatting.

So I ran an experiment.  “Hey,” I said, “Do any of you guys know who Lilly Singh is?” 

Dead silence for a solid second as they inhaled all the oxygen in the room in a gigantic gasp.  “I LOVE HER!” they all screamed in unison, as if they had rehearsed it.

And now I am the most popular sub in the history of American education.  Just saying.

And when you need another YouTube channel addiction, check out mine--  I’m the YouTube Mom, 

and offer hundreds of videos right here.  Can’t promise any rapping or dancing, but definitely some life hacks we all need.

Lights, Camera, Action!

          I’m proud of all four of my children, but today I must tell you about the one who’s a filmmaker.  

His name is Cassidy (so named five years before it became a girl’s name, and yes he has done a standup routine about this in college).

          When Cassidy was three years old, I was folding laundry in my bedroom and heard him out in the hall, crying.  I dashed out to see what was the matter.

          “I’m just practicing my fake cry,” he said.

          I went back to folding.  Soon I heard him crying again, only this time it sounded even worse.  I couldn’t resist—I went to check on him.    With a peeved edge to his voice, he told me I did not need to keep checking on him, that he was simply practicing his fake cry.   

          “Well, knock it off,” I said.  “It’s too convincing.”  And that’s probably the moment when I realized he was destined for entertainment.

          Mind you, St. Bob and I were living in L.A., were in “the biz,” and it was the last thing we wanted for our kids, right?  But then and there I knew I had an actor and a storyteller on my hands, and as he grew I saw unmistakable talent. No way could I steer him in some other direction, any more than he could fake cry less convincingly.

          He made the morning videos that were broadcast into all the home rooms in his high school, and from there began making documentaries, corporate videos, kickstarter campaigns, and short films (see them on his website). His latest short film was inspired by the song, Fix You, by Coldplay, and I hope you’ll take five minutes to watch it here. As soon as it posted, it got 5,000 hits.

          The only thing missing is a middle-aged mother bursting onto the scene and saying, “Stop it, all of you—you’re too convincing.”

Cassidy  is married to Tiffany, an equally talent artist and stylist, whose fashion blog, Oktopodes.com, is also a must-read.  Cass and his siblings are in several of my books, by the way.  Check  ‘em out here.