I watched Kathy Bates on “CBS Sunday Morning” a couple of weeks ago because I like her.  She’s been in some really good movies and played some great characters. 

I think the first time I saw Bates was when she played the character of Stella Mae in the play “Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean,” a play that was filmed. A great show, and a great character.  It’s one of Cher’s first movie’s too.  

Watch it. It’s good.

Now, she’s on television and playing a lawyer with the last name of Matlock.  I haven’t paid enough attention to know if she’s actually related to Andy Griffith’s  Matlock, but it’s still a neat idea no matter what. Although I haven’t really watched any sort of network TV in a long time, I’m almost tempted to watch this show to see what’s up.

Kathy has always been a little heavier than most actresses, but she reports that she has lost over 100 pounds and she’s now enjoying being able to shop for awards show finery and such that she wasn’t able to do before.

But I guess what struck me the most about Kathy Bates during her interview is how much she talked about her parents. 

When she decided to go to drama school, she said her parents gave up quite a bit, including retirement.  She talked about how hard they worked and how her father went back to work, even having a heart attack in his 70s because he was still working to put her through school.

Regardless of her gratitude, you could tell that there was a degree of pain there as she reminisced and spoke of her parents.  By the time she won an Academy Award for Best Actress in 1990 for “Misery,” her father was gone and her mother was most likely watching from home.  

During the interview, Kathy remarked to the interviewer that she had forgotten to thank her mother when she picked up the award.

You see, it is apparent that Kathy and her mother might have had their differences and even some friction. Her mother wondered aloud what the big deal was about the Oscar win, remarking that it wasn’t like Kathy had found a cure for cancer or anything. Whether that was meant to be somewhat of a joke or not, it was most likely a little stinging.  

But still, it was apparent that there was great respect for her mother, but Kathy had hung on to the fact that she never thanked her mother in that speech.

“Oh, but you did thank her,” said the interviewer.

“I did not. No I didn’t,” Kathy said back.

What followed was a very poignant moment.  

The interviewer replayed the 1990 speech, and suddenly you hear Kathy thank both her parents. You hear her say “I’d like to thank my mom.”

Present-day Kathy stares dumbfounded at the interviewer, her hand going up to her mouth and tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.  

“I did thank her,” she says as her voice breaks.  “Thank you. Thank you,” she says to the interviewer.

It brought to light how much time we spend on regrets, and how we often wallow in things we wished we’d done better. We fret over things we didn’t say or things we didn’t do.

And then, once in a while, we get some little gem of memory. Maybe someone reminds us of something or we see a video or old letter.  

Our regrets are erased.  

It’s rare, but it is certainly a gift.