Singing in the car to Taylor Swift

What an episode of The Bear (and a novel about weddings) reveals about healing.

✨ Quick reminder that Dirty, Messy, Alive: an Embodied Memoir-Writing Workshop Series starts tomorrow! The event is free, but if you're unable to make the live sessions or watch the recordings before they're taken down, an All Access Pass makes it easy to digest everything on your own timeline. (As an affiliate, I'll receive a commission if you choose this route.) Hope you can join! ✨

---

I started watching The Bear this summer.

Initially, I wrote it off because when it started becoming buzzy, the show was often described as intense, and well, I really wasn’t interested in watching people scream at each other in the kitchen, even if it won a bunch of awards.¹

But then multiple people, in the span of a relatively short period of time, said I would love it. They turned out to be right, and one episode particularly stood out.

In the seventh episode of the second season, titled “Forks,” Richie has a moment. Actually, a transformation.

Some context for those who haven’t seen the show (and a reminder for those who have): Chef Carmen (played by Jeremy Allen White) is less than two months away from opening his restaurant, The Bear, in Chicago. There’s a list a mile long of things that need to be done in a certain order. It’s stressful and overwhelming, and his “cousin” Richie (played by Ebon Moss-Bachrach/technically not a blood relative) is in his face. Literally, all the time.

Richie is floundering, mostly because his personal life is falling apart. He needs direction, purpose, and to feel pride in his work again, or perhaps for the first time ever. Carmen needs a break, calls a chef he used to work for, and sends Richie to their fine dining restaurant for a week to learn how to operate the front of house.²

At five in the morning, Richie arrives to the kitchen and is tasked with cleaning forks. Buffing silver feels menial to him, and Richie curses Carmen under his breath, vowing to prove him wrong about whatever it is he thinks he’s doing there. Two days in, Richie snaps at the banality of removing water spots for hours, but eventually shows up to find a suit laid out for him.

Now he’s excited. Today, he’s shadowing Garrett, who manages the dining room.

This is when Richie comes alive.

He closely watches the guests, noting how the staff works to make them feel extra special. He obsesses over place settings. He overhears that a family won’t have time to get a deep dish pizza before leaving Chicago, and runs out to order one from his favorite restaurant. The chef makes it fancy, and Richie is given the honor of delivering the surprise to an unsuspecting table, and absolutely loves the joy and satisfaction that comes from offering this fine-tuned level of hospitality.

When he returns to The Bear in a few days, he will look Carmen in the eye and say: “I get it.”

But before that happens, Richie will get into his car and blast Taylor Swift as he drives home, singing at the top of his lungs.

From Variety:

“The scene in which Richie serves the pizza comes as a small, earned reward for a character who’s been through it, and provides intriguing grit and texture, too: Playing the role of a server at the finest restaurant there is, Richie’s slinging pizza and cutting it up with the patrons. Haute cuisine is changing Richie, but, if only in moments, Richie may be doing the reverse, too. Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” — a satisfying deep-dish slice, extra cheese — plays on the soundtrack as Richie undergoes a training montage, having seen just how possible it is to carve out moments of surprise and delight in a rigid format.”

In an earlier scene, Richie was on the phone with his ex, telling her he purchased Taylor Swift tickets for their daughter. He bought three, in case she’d like to come with them. They clearly love each other, but it’s not working. She takes this moment to tell him she’s recently become engaged.

So Richie is processing all of this—the love for his child, the love a person he can no longer be with, the pride he feels in caring for other people, and his problematic behavior in recent weeks. He goes home and cleans off his counters, throws out trash. He cleans it all up.

Richie used to run around The Bear with an old t-shirt and jeans, but today he walks in wearing a suit. To anyone who glances at him, Richie declares he “wears suits now” because it makes him feel better about himself. He stands a bit taller. He’s ready to serve.

When I watched Richie singing in the car after a long day, I started laughing, overcome with a shared understanding of what it’s like to be inside a moment that’s both electrifying and tear-inducing, where you hit on something you’ve been circling around, where you feel alive.

Where you let it all out.

I thought about this episode for days, content with my good feelings and happiness for Richie. It wasn’t until I started reading THE WEDDING PEOPLE by Alison Espach, that I considered the episode again.

Late in the novel, the main character, Phoebe, has a realization while taking a surfing lesson with surf pro, Aspen.

“Balance is everything,” Aspen says.
“The movement is like yoga, Phoebe thinks. She feels glad, suddenly, for all that yoga she tried doing on Zoom during the pandemic. She feels like maybe that wasn’t a waste of time after all, if it allowed her to be present in this moment. And maybe that’s it: You do things in the moment for the person you hope you might be two years from now.”

I stopped when I read this. Yes. Isn’t that why we do what we do?

It’s one part getting through the moment, but it’s really about who we’re becoming.

We go through the muck now so we can stand on a board in the middle of the ocean and be fully present in our bodies.

We clean the forks now so in a few days we can bring customers a slice of pizza and make their night.

We sing in the car to Taylor Swift now because our bodies need to howl and release something.

There will always be immediate needs that require attention. A lot of times it will seem like we’re stagnant or going backwards. But hopefully, over time, we’ll be able to look back and realize how far we’ve come.

How we chose compassion a week ago, a month ago, a year ago, so we can be present now. Feel joy now. Stay grounded now.

That’s not the kind of thing we usually see on social media. It’s a private, quiet kind of satisfaction. But every once in a while, something like The Bear or a novel comes along and reminds us we’re not alone, and that healing takes as long as it takes, and it’s always worth it.

Until next time,
Nicole

P.S. Grab your free ticket for Dirty, Messy, Alive: an Embodied Memoir-Writing Workshop Series that runs from Sept. 26-29. Can’t make it live? An All-Access Pass lets you follow along at your own pace.

---

1. The Bear has won numerous Emmy’s in the COMEDY category, which I find, well, comical. This is the best explanation I’ve read as to why it’s been put into this camp, but I personally don’t consider this show to be a comedy, even if there are moments of levity.

“It may not be dense with laugh-out-loud jokes, or even funny-awkward situations that eventually lead to hilarity, but it’s a show that’s still operating in a playful state. In season one, Carmy’s sad and the show is stressful and the stakes feel high, but the underlying foundation is that the characters are in this situation (like a sitcom!) and they’re all operating in this space together.”

2. Front of house is the customer-facing part of the restaurant, like the dining room and bar, and is overseen by front of house managers, servers, and food runners.