In a timeless tale of romance, Naval Officer Zack Mayo swept factory worker Paula into his arms and carried her from her workplace, leaving fans everywhere wishing they were the beautiful Debra Winger.
The legendary scene in the romantic drama an Officer and a Gentleman–where Richard Gere played Officer Zack Mayo, the handsome hero in navy whites–became the benchmark of love stories for daydreaming fans.
Acting alongside Hollywood’s hottest men, Debra Winger was the envy of many.
Today, Winger, 67, is as beautiful as ever. In the past few years, Winger has posted photos herself on Instagram, first with brown hair and now to a natural wavy gray.
Winger’s first starring role was in the 1976 film Slumber Party ‘57, which led to a part on the hit TV series Wonder Woman (1979), where she played Drusilla, the younger sister to Lynda Carter’s Diana Prince/Wonder Woman. Winger was asked to appear more often but concerned she’d be typecast by that role, she declined.
There were no regrets for that decision, the early ‘80s would be prosperous for the rising star.
At the height of her young career, she received numerous nods from the Academy and Golden Globes for performances in three iconic movies of the 1980’s.
In 1980, she starred in Urban Cowboy, with John Travolta, who at the time was driving fans wild with his smooth dance moves in Saturday Night Fever (1977) and Grease (1988); as Paula in an Officer and a Gentleman (1982) and in Terms of Endearment (1983), where she played Emma, a dying young woman with an over-bearing mother, Aurora, played by Shirley MacLaine.
Despite her huge success, Winger, carving hours from her acting schedule, took a mini Hollywood hiatus, and more than four decades after her rise to stardom, speculation of why she left is still circulating.
Most of these rumours revolve around the feuds that Winger had with her co-stars.
Though fans couldn’t get enough of the handsome Gere, it’s been widely reported that Winger had enough of him on the set.
According to an excerpt published on ABC News from the book, “An Actor and a Gentleman,” by co-star, Louis Gossett Jr., who played Sgt. Emil Foley: “The onscreen chemistry between the two of them was terrific, but it was a different story once the camera was turned off. They couldn’t have stayed farther apart from each other.”
Gossett also claims that Winger didn’t think much of Gere’s acting and wrote that she once described Gere as “a brick wall.” And, the film’s director, Taylor Hackford, whom she also did not likе, she referred to as “animal.”
It wasn’t only people on that film that ruffled her feathers.
Winger, a free spirit in real life and in her role as Emma, also clashed with the prolific MacLaine, a glamourous, eccentric and seasoned veteran.
Their first meeting set the stage for their relationship.
“To see how my character would feel I was wearing all my leftover movie-star fur coats,” MacLaine said in an interview with People. “There was Debra dressed in combat boots and a miniskirt…I thought, ‘Oh my goodness.’”
People writes, “Indeed, the set became the source of Hollywood’s most relished rumors. Winger wanted top billing. One reportedly slugged the other.”
And then, the women were pitted against each other in the Oscars when they were both nominated for best actress.
MacLaine, taking the trophy home, said in her acceptance speech, “I deserve this!”
Rumors aside, Winger insists she “pushed the pause button” on Hollywood for personal reasons and not professional.
“The parts that were coming, I wasn’t interested in. I’d already done that or I’d already felt that. I needed to be challenged. My life challenged me more than the parts, so I dove into it fully,” Winger told People.
After starring in the 1995 romcom Forget Paris with Billy Crystal, Winger took a six-year break.
In that time, she moved to New York City and shifted her focus to actor Arliss Howard, whom she married in 1996. The pair have a son, Gideon Babe, who was born in 1997, and she is stepmother to Sam, Howard’s son from a previous marriage. She also has another biological child, Noah Hutton, whom she mothered while married to her first husband, Timothy Hutton (1986 to 1990).
She reappeared in the 2001 film Big Bad Love, that was directed and produced by her husband, who also co-starred alongside Winger and Rosanna Arquette, who’s next project was 2002 film Searching for Debra Winger. As director of the documentary, Arquette attempts to answer why Winger temporarily аbаndоned her career at peak performance.
Winger gained some momentum with roles in Rachel Getting Married (2008) with Anne Hathaway, the 2017 romcom The Lovers, and the crime-comedy, Kajillionaire (2020).
In 2021, she was in With/In, Volume two of the anthological drama film, in the segment Her Own, which is written and directed by her husband, who also co-stars.
“I don’t know what Hollywood is. I’m living under the freaking sign now, and I just stare at it and laugh. Los Angeles is a place, but the idea of Hollywood doesn’t really exist for me,” Winger said, adding, “…although there must be some in-crowds that I just don’t know about.”
We can’t imagine a Hollywood without Debra Winger and we hope she soon gets to take home an Academy Award ! What are your favorite Winger movies?
My Neighbor Stole My Dog, Lied to My Face, and Thought I’d Let It Go
What happened after Kristen stole my dog Charlie wasn’t just neighborhood drama. It was justice served with a side of creative revenge that had our entire town talking for months. Some might call it petty. I call it necessary.
I’ve lived in Oakwood Hills for almost twenty years now. It’s your typical small American town where everyone knows your business before you do. The kind of place where gossip spreads faster than wildfire, and having a decent neighbor is worth more than a clean credit score.
A dog standing in a neighborhood | Source: Pexels
“Morning, Sarah!” my elderly neighbor Frank called from across the street as I stepped onto my porch with my morning coffee. “Charlie behaving himself today?”
I smiled and gestured to my golden retriever lounging beside me. “As always. Best roommate I’ve ever had.”
Charlie has been my saving grace these past three years since my divorce from Tom. When your husband of 27 years decides he’s in love with his dental hygienist, a dog becomes more than a pet. Charlie became my therapist, my confidant, and my reason to get out of bed some mornings.
A golden retriever | Source: Pexels
“Mom, you talk about that dog more than you talk about me,” my son Jason jokes during our weekly calls.
He moved to Seattle after college, and while I miss him terribly, I understand. Not much happening in our sleepy town for a 26-year-old with big dreams.
A man standing outside a house | Source: Midjourney
“That’s because Charlie doesn’t forget to call his mother on her birthday,” I teased back last time.
My life was simple but content. Until Kristen moved in next door last spring.
Kristen is 38 going on 21, with a face so full of Botox it barely moves when she talks. She’s like a walking Instagram filter with a personality as authentic as a stock photo. But the worst thing about Kristen? Her magical belief that if she likes something (a handbag, a hairstyle, a man, or apparently, my dog), it automatically belongs to her.
A dog lying on a road | Source: Pexels
“He’s just gorgeous,” she’d gush every time she saw Charlie, reaching over the fence with those long, manicured nails. “I’ve always wanted a golden.”
I should have seen it coming, honestly.
One Tuesday morning, I let Charlie into my fenced backyard to do his business while I packed my lunch for work.
Ten minutes later, he was gone. Vanished.
A fenced backyard | Source: Midjourney
“Charlie?” I called, stepping onto the back porch.
Nothing.
My heart dropped to my stomach as I scanned the yard. The gate was still latched. The fence was intact. It was like he’d evaporated.
I called in sick to work and spent the day searching the neighborhood, knocking on doors, my voice growing hoarser with each “Have you seen my dog?”
A woman walking on a road | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t worry, Sarah,” my friend Diane said as she helped me post flyers around town. “He’s microchipped, right? Someone will find him.”
I posted in local Facebook groups, called shelters, drove up and down every street within a five-mile radius.
Nothing.
Three sleepless nights passed. I’d barely eaten. My son offered to drive down that weekend to help search.
Then, Thursday afternoon, I walked past Kristen’s porch on my way back from checking the shelter yet again.
There he was. Charlie.
A dog with a blue collar | Source: Midjourney
Wearing a new blue collar. Sitting beside her. Wagging his tail like she hadn’t just kidnapped him.
My blood froze in my veins.
“That’s Charlie,” I said as I stopped at the edge of her driveway.
Kristen looked up from her phone, flashing that practiced fake smile.
“Oh, hi Sarah. This is Brandon. My new rescue.”
“No, that’s Charlie. My dog. Who disappeared from my yard three days ago,” I said. “I know it’s him.”
She laughed. “You must be mistaken. My new boyfriend loves goldens, and I’ve owned a golden retriever FOR YEARS.”
At that point, Charlie perked up at the sound of my voice. His tail thumped against her porch boards.
A close-up shot of a dog’s tail | Source: Midjourney
“He recognizes me,” I pointed out, taking a step forward.
Kristen’s hand tightened on his new collar. “A lot of goldens are friendly. That doesn’t mean anything.”
I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers. “I have photos. Hundreds of them.”
She glanced at the screen, bored. “A lot of goldens look like that.”
“He has a signature birthmark behind his ear. It looks like a heart.” My voice was getting louder now. “Check behind his right ear.”
A close-up shot of a woman’s eyes | Source: Pexels
“Coincidence. Listen, Sarah, I know you miss your dog, but this is Brandon. I got him from… a friend of a friend upstate.”
That’s when it clicked. She STOLE my dog so her new boyfriend would see what a good “dog lover” she was. My Charlie was just a prop in her dating game.
I could see neighbors peeking through windows, wondering about the commotion. In a small town like ours, this would be prime gossip by dinner time.
I took a deep breath, nodded, and walked away.
I didn’t argue further. I didn’t yell. I didn’t cause a scene.
Instead, I made a plan.
That night, I called Jason and explained everything.
A woman holding her phone | Source: Pexels
“Mom, call the police!” he exclaimed.
“And say what? That my neighbor has a dog that looks like mine? Without proof, it’s my word against hers.”
“So, you’re just giving up?” He sounded disappointed.
A man talking to his mother on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Oh no, honey. I’m just getting started.”
The next morning, I drove to Office Depot and printed flyers. Dozens of them. With a message in big bold letters.
“MISSING DOG: CHARLIE
Fluffy heart. Warm nose. Stolen by a woman with no soul.”
Then in smaller print, “Last seen on Kristen Reynolds’ porch at 42 Maple Street. If you’ve seen Charlie, please scan the QR code below.”
Yep. I added a QR code.
A flyer on a wall | Source: Midjourney
My son had helped me build a simple website the night before. It contained photos of Charlie over the years including his adoption day, him in his Halloween hot dog costume, and videos of him sleeping on my lap.
The website also had his adoption certificate with MY name clearly visible, and videos of him doing tricks to my voice commands.
And the best part was the camera footage from my neighbor across the street. It showed Kristen opening my gate, calling Charlie over, and leading him away by the collar.
Thank God for Frank and his obsession with home security.
A security camera | Source: Pexels
By noon, I’d placed flyers on every telephone pole, community board, and car windshield within a mile radius.
That evening, I went a step further.
I ordered twenty helium balloons with Charlie’s face printed on them from a shop two towns over. Rush job, cash payment.
Each balloon said, “I’m not Brandon. I’m a kidnapped dog.”
Around midnight, I tied them to her mailbox, her car, her front porch railing. By dawn, her house looked like a bizarre dog-themed party.
Balloons in front of a house | Source: Midjourney
The neighborhood group chat exploded before breakfast.
“Is that Kristen’s house with all the balloons?” Diane texted, with a photo attached.
Someone shared the website link. “OMG! You all need to see this.”
Another neighbor chimed in, “Didn’t she steal Emma’s hanging plants last spring?”
Even the PTO president Helen commented, “Bold of her to name someone else’s dog after her ex-boyfriend.”
A person using their phone | Source: Pexels
I watched from my kitchen window as Kristen stepped outside around 9 a.m., her face going pale at the sight of the balloons. Her phone must have been blowing up too.
By noon, I heard my back gate squeak. Through the window, I watched as Kristen silently led Charlie into my yard, unclipped his blue collar, and left without a word. No note. No eye contact. Just shame and silence.
The moment she disappeared, I rushed outside. Charlie came bounding across the yard, jumping up to lick my face as I fell to my knees sobbing.
A dog running | Source: Midjourney
“You’re home, baby. You’re finally home,” I whispered into his fur.
Kristen still lives next door. We pass each other sometimes at the mailbox or in the grocery store. But now, people whisper when she walks by. No one asks her to dog-sit. Or plant-sit. Or trust-sit anything ever again.
After everything that happened, I added one last update to the website before taking it down. I uploaded a picture of Charlie with a simple yet strong message, “Charlie is home. Kristen is not welcome to visit.”
A woman using her laptop | Source: Pexels
I learned something powerful through all this.
Some people think kindness is weakness. They think that because you’re polite or older or live alone, you won’t stand up for yourself. But there’s a fire in me that motherhood lit decades ago, and it still burns bright when someone threatens what I love.
Don’t underestimate a woman with time on her hands, love in her heart, and righteous anger in her soul. We don’t just get even. We get creative.
A dog sleeping | Source: Pexels
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