One Remembrance of Rob Reiner

My heart broke last week when I learned of the deaths of Rob Reiner and his wife. Mr. Reiner excelled as a fine actor, a genius storyteller, an engaged progressive political activist, and a mensch, and I am terribly sorry for his family and for our loss as a society that has gained so much from him. I did not know him, yet I once had an up-close-and-personal glimpse of him that demonstrated something magical about how, even with all the trappings of fame, notoriety, and success, one can still be human.

I grew up in Los Angeles and, more specifically, the areas of Hollywood and the southeast San Fernando Valley adjacent to Hollywood. During that time, people regularly encountered (or at least sighted) celebrities in situ: grocery shopping, walking a pet, driving their convertibles, or participating in normal acts of life.

As young people in the neighborhood school, this was also true. For example, I attended elementary school with a nephew of actor Gordon McCrae and a daughter of a local television station news anchor. Among us it was well known that Jim Backus lived up the street; Mickey Manors, Mary Tyler Moore, and Ed Begley Jr, lived within three blocks of my home; and the noted film director Arthur Vitarelli lived directly across the street. These were just the ones I knew about. If you don’t recognize any of these celebrity names, you can find them easily online.

Celebrity sightings were rare, and when they occurred, the celebrity would just walk off and disappear. But when I saw Rob Reiner at the Studio City Sav-on/Osco store one day in the late 1970’s, I learned something about that man and his menschlichkeit.

It was the year before I started graduate school, and I was shopping at the local drug store. Waiting in the checkout line, two parties ahead of me, was Rob Reiner; he was recognizable to everyone. At that time, All in the Family was still in production, and seeing him shopping along with the rest of us provided a certain amount of comfort: here is one person, albeit a celebrity, trying to live as we all do.

In those times, etiquette demanded that if one were to encounter celebrities, one should allow them to live their life with little interference and as effortlessly as possible. So, most people simply observed from afar, remained discreet . . . and likely ran to tell all their friends about it!

On that otherwise quiet day, in the drug store, between me and Reiner were a mother and her eight-year-old son, who was the opposite of composure. The boy was very excited that someone whom he had seen on television was so close by. He had trouble containing himself, so much so that his mother reluctantly agreed to let him interact with Reiner.

The young boy tugged on the hem of Reiner’s corduroy sport coat, and Reiner looked down at him. “Are you the ‘Meathead’?” the young boy asked.

(If you have not seen All in the Family, Reiner’s liberal character Mike Stivic’s conservative father-in-law, Archie Bunker, called him that name throughout most of the program’s eight-year run.)

“Yes,” replied Reiner, sheepishly smiling down at him. “I’m the ‘Meathead’.”

The two of them began to speak quietly and excitedly for a few moments before the embarrassed mother tried to separate them, but Reiner just let the interaction happen, taking time to get to know the boy and respond to his excitement in meeting ‘the Meathead’. Reiner eventually completed his purchases and left the store.

We know that fame can either elevate people above the rest of us or challenge them to remain human. And Rob Reiner demonstrated, via this simple encounter that lasted perhaps eight minutes, that he had that special ability to be the mensch that the world needed to see, and to which we can all aspire.