RIP: LAUREN CHAPIN

Lauren Chapin, who played Kitten on the classic TV series "Father Knows Best," has died at 80.

Her son Matthew Chapin broke the sad news on Facebook Tuesday, writing, "After a long hard fought battle over the past 5 years, the time has come. My mother Lauren Chapin passed away from her battle with cancer tonight."

He went on, "I'm at a complete loss for words right now. Please keep my sister and family in your thoughts and prayers as we go through this incredibly tough time."

Chapin was youngest kid Kathy (nicknamed Kitten) Anderson on "Father Knows Best" from 1954-1960, appearing in nearly 200 episodes.

For her memorable work, she earned five Junior Emmys.

The series, starring Robert Young and Jane Wyatt, also featured big sis Betty "Princess" Anderson (Elinor Donahue) and James "Bun" Anderson (Billy Gray).

Both 88, Donahue and Gray are still living.

Born May 23, 1945, Chapin joined her brothers, Billy and Michael, as a child actor.

Her first, uncredited, work was in the iconic Judy Garland film "A Star Is Born" (1954). After a couple of TV gigs, she was cast as Kitten.

When "Father Knows Best" ended, she worked very sporadically, including returning to her most famous role for two TV reunions, both in 1977.

Chapin went on to have an eclectic career after leaving television, including as a natural childbirth coach and working at a brokerage firm. She ran beauty pageants and even helped Jennifer Love Hewitt early in her own successful TV career.

Her later years were devoted to Evangelism and advocating for Israel. She was also a regular at nostalgia shows.

Chapin is survived by her son and daughter, and by her brother Michael. She was preceded in death in 2016 by her brother Billy...

RICK MORANIS: A HOLLYWOOD HERO

Rick Moranis was one of Hollywood’s most beloved comedic actors in the 1980s and early 90s, known for hits like Ghostbusters, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, and Spaceballs. His sharp timing, warm charm, and ability to make audiences laugh without ever overplaying a role made him a standout in every ensemble. But in 1997, at the height of his career, Rick made the rarest move in Hollywood he stepped away completely. The reason wasn’t scandal or burnout, but something far more personal.

After losing his wife, Ann, to cancer in 1991, Moranis faced the daunting task of raising their two children alone. For years, he balanced acting with fatherhood, but eventually realized that the job that mattered most to him wasn’t on a film set it was at home. Turning down role after role, he quietly faded from the industry to be present for his kids’ upbringing. This decision, though it broke fans’ hearts, earned him deep respect as a man who valued family over fame.

Now, after nearly four decades, Moranis is stepping back into the spotlight. His return isn’t just about making movies again it’s about revisiting the joy of storytelling after a lifetime of real life priorities. For fans who grew up watching him, this comeback feels like a reunion with an old friend one who left at his best, and returns with even more heart...

MOVIE MOMENT: AIRPLANE

Woman: "Oh, stewardess! I speak jive."

Randy, The Stewardess: "Oh, good."

Woman: "He said that he's in great pain and he wants to know if you can help him."

Randy: "All right. Would you tell him to just relax and I'll be back as soon as I can with some medicine?"

Woman: [to the Second Jive Dude] "Jus' hang loose, blood. She gonna catch ya up on da rebound on da med side".

[Subtitle: JUST BE PATIENT MY FRIEND. SHE'S GOING TO BRING SOMETHING ON HER WAY BACK TO MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER]

Second Jive Dude: "What it is, big mama? My mama no raise no dummies. I dug her rap!"

[Subtitle: MA'AM, I'M NOT STUPID. I UNDERSTAND WHAT SHE JUST SAID]

Woman: "Cut me some slack, Jack! Chump don' want no help, chump don't GET da help!"

[Subtitle: GIVE ME A BREAK! IF YOU DON'T WANT HELP, I WON'T HELP YOU!]

First Jive Dude: "Say 'e can't hang, say seven up!"

Woman: "Jive-@ss dude don't got no brains, anyhow! Sh!!!!t."

[Subtitle: NEVER MIND. YOU'RE STUPID, ANYWAY. GOLLY!]

The part of the Jive Lady in "Airplane!" was originally intended for Harriet Nelson, who had played the mother in the 1950s sitcom "The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet." She turned it down because she was concerned about the film's adult language. She was replaced with Barbara Billingsley who played the mother in the 1950s sitcom "Leave It to Beaver." Nelson later admitted to "Airplane!" star Robert Hays that she regretted not taking the part.

HOLLYWOOD BEAUTY: ELEANOR POWELL

One of the best dancers in Hollywood and one of the most beautiful was the underrated Eleanor Powell. Here are some photos from the past that show her everlasting beauty...

BING CROSBY: THE HOLLYWOOD YEARS - PART 11

REFLECTIONS: MAE CLARKE ON PUBLIC ENEMY

One of the most iconic film scenes is when Jimmy Cagney shoves the grapefruit in actress Mae Clarke's face in 1931's The Public Enemy. Here is a story about the famous scene in Mae's own words...

I didn’t want to do that, but all I had done to meet the new man and be at the new studio and work with Wellman was all out the window if I said no. I’d be a lemon. So I knew I had to do it. The only thing I could have done is get my agent on the phone and let him be the one to say no. But I couldn’t get to a phone. Jimmy [Cagney] was sitting right there and being very persuasive.

I said, “Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll do it– once. I’ll trust you not to hurt me, and that’s all. Just for the guys. Okay.” So that’s what we did, and we did it just once. Didn’t hurt me. […]

After I left the studio I drove myself alone and held myself in. I got to my house and then I was no longer Mae the actress. Home meant Mother and Dad and my brother and sister. So home was very protective to me, and they all liked me a lot. mother opened the door and said, “Oh, good, I’ve got so-and-so for dinner.” And I said, “Mother,” and put my head on her shoulder and broke down crying. She said, “Why, darling, what’s the matter?” She patted me and said, “Oh, now, it can’t be that bad.” She was a great soother, which helped me to cry more.

I said, “Mother, something happened today that I will never, ever, get over. It will be part of my life from now on. It’s going to hurt all the time, and I couldn’t get out of it. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted everybody to like me and I wanted to be a good sport and I wanted to work with Mr. Cagney again because awfully good. He’s going to be a great star; they all say so.”

I told her. And she, of course, knew exactly what to do. She told me: “That’s not the end of the world. You’ve had worse than that.” Without putting me down about it, she put it just in the right tempo to get me to stop crying and come on in and sit down and have a good meal and give me diversion.

Now my father was always in on things without my telling him. He was busy doing something, but he was listening. He just went quietly to the piano and played things like “A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody.” He consoled me through the piano, and I knew it. That was the way he talked to me. And I loved it. The things that always got me well were Daddy’s music and Mother’s soup. Those were surefire. People still ask me, “Do you think that scene, with all the longevity it’s had, has helped you or hurt you?” I think I’ll leave it to you and movie fans on what I think...

MY FATHER AND HIS 80TH BIRTHDAY

On February 5th, 2026, Francis Edward Lobosco (my father) would have celebrated his 80th birthday. Though his life was cut short in 1991 at the age of 44, his memory continues to live on in the hearts of those who knew him and in the communities of Shaler and Verona, Pennsylvania, where he spent his life.

Born in Verona on February 5, 1946, Francis was the only son of Francis L. Lobosco and Katherine Campbell. His father, a hardworking man from Allegheny County, passed away suddenly in 1969, and Francis carried forward the quiet strength and resilience that defined his family. He was raised in a household that valued tradition, faith, and perseverance—qualities that would shape his own approach to life.

He was a devoted son, especially to his mother Katherine, who outlived both her husband and son. He also became a father himself, leaving behind a son, David Lobosco and a daughter, Christina Swanson, who both continues to honor his legacy.

Though Francis’s life was not marked by public accolades or headlines, it was rich in the ways that matter most: family, community, and quiet integrity. He lived through a transformative era in American history—from the post-war boom to the cultural shifts of the 1960s and 70s—and remained grounded in the values instilled by his parents and extended family, including his aunts Anna and Sarah Lobosco.

His passing on January 31, 1991, due to heart failure, was a profound loss to those who knew him. Yet, even in death, Francis’s story is one of enduring connection. He was laid to rest in Mount Carmel Cemetery in Verona, the same resting place as his father—a symbol of the deep roots the Lobosco family planted in the region.

As we mark what would have been his 80th birthday, we remember Francis not just for the years he lived, but for the quiet impact he made. His life reminds us that legacy isn’t always loud—it’s often found in the everyday acts of love, loyalty, and presence...