Co-stars of Matthew Perry’s Friends were spotted comforting one another on Friday outside the church where the 54-year-old was buried.
Foursome Jennifer Aniston, 54; Lisa Kudrow, 60; Courteney Cox, 59; and David Schwimmer, 57, came at Forest Lawn cemetery in Los Angeles ready to say their final farewell to Perry. They were all dressed somberly in black suits.
After the short, one-hour ceremony, Matt LeBlanc, 56, joined them outside the church, where they were photographed chatting with other well-wishers.
Along with his father John Perry, 82, his weeping mother Suzanne Morrison, 84, and stepfather Keith, a writer for Dateline, were present at the private celebration. One person carrying the coffin was Keith Morrison.
“Ms. Aniston was among the first to arrive,” an onlooker remarked. She remained solitary. This is a well-known meeting.
Across from Warner Bros Studios, where ten seasons of Friends were filmed, lies a cemetery that is the final resting place of a galaxy of Hollywood stars, including Bette Davis, Carrie Fisher, Buster Keaton, Michael Hutchence of INXS, Anne Heche, and Stan Laurel.
At Matthew Perry’s funeral on Friday, Jennifer Aniston (left), Courteney Cox (second left), David Schwimmer (middle), Lisa Kudrow (second right), and Matt LeBlanc (far right) are pictured.
On Friday at Forest Lawn Church of the Hills in Los Angeles, Jennifer Aniston (far back), Courteney Cox and David Schwimmer (middle), and Lisa Kudrow (front) are pictured.
On Friday, the three Friends ladies and David Schwimmer are seen leaving the church to go to Matthew Perry’s funeral.
Keith Morrison, Perry’s stepfather, who has gray hair, carried the coffin.
I’ll be available to you: Stars from Friends attend Matthew Perry’s burial
Following his discovery of death on Saturday, tributes to Friends star Matthew Perry have been pouring in.
Family members spotted departing Matthew Perry’s burial in mourning
The song “Don’t Give Up” by Peter Gabriel, which goes, “No fight left or so it seems, I am a man whose dreams have all deserted, I’ve changed my face, I’ve changed my name, But no one wants you when you lose,” was performed as the service came to an end.
“There was not a dry eye in there,” remarked a bystander. Both laughter and tears were abundant. Speaking only were close friends and relatives.
Perry was buried in a black wooden coffin in a private ceremony for his family exclusively following the service.
Following the service, large groups of mourners dressed in black gathered outside the church.
A few were observed giving each other comfort and an embrace. In order to protect their eyes from the intense Californian sun, many wore dark shades.
Other celebrities buried in gorgeous parkland include INXS guitarist Michael Hutchinson, Buster Keaton, Brittany Murphy, Paul Walker, and actress Anne Heche, who passed away unexpectedly in a vehicle accident last year.
On Friday, the hearse with Matthew Perry’s remains was seen pulling up to the grave.
On Friday, a photo shows Perry’s casket being brought into the church.
Matthew Perry’s family and friends may be seen arriving for the funeral on Friday.
Keith Morrison, the 54-year-old’s stepson, was one of the seven persons who carried the coffin.
There is a lengthy lineup of cars parked outside the Los Angeles cemetery.
A long line of cars are seen parked outside the cemetery in Los Angeles
Matthew Perry’s family and friends may be seen arriving for the funeral on Friday.
Demanding Parents Expect Nanny to Pay $1000 for Vacation Flights – Their Harsh Reality Check
ane’s employers plan a luxurious holiday away, tagging her along to look after their children. While they promised that they would take care of all the expenses, it is only when they return home that they demand that Jane play her part and pay for her plane tickets. But Jane won’t give up that easily.
“Jane, can you come into the living room?” Mrs. Smith called out, her teaspoon clinking as she stirred sugar into the cup of tea Melanie, the helper, had just given her.
I was tidying up the playroom.
“Now, please,” she added.
Her tone was sweet, but something felt off. I walked into the living room, trying to keep my nerves at bay.
“Sure, Mrs. Smith. What’s up?” I replied, wiping the disinfectant onto my jeans.
She was sitting on the couch, perfectly poised as always. Not even a strand of hair out of place. Mr. Smith was seated beside her, his phone in his hand. He gave me a tight smile.
“Jane, we need to talk about the vacation.”
I nodded, curious.
We had been home for two days now. Back from our trip to the seaside, staying in a luxurious resort. It was almost the break I needed, minus the fact that I had the Smiths’ three children, and their friends, the Johnsons’ two sons to care for as well.
I was just doing my job in a fancier location.
“Of course,” I said. “It was a lovely trip. Thank you again for inviting me.”
“Yes, well,” Mrs. Smith started. “We need to discuss the plane tickets. When will you be able to return the $1000?”
I blinked. I was sure that I had misheard her.
“Sorry, $1000? For the tickets? What?”
“Yes, for the tickets, Jane,” she spoke slowly as if I was stupid. “We spent a lot on them, and we thought you’d be grateful enough to pay us back.”
My heart raced. I didn’t have that kind of money to spare. I was their full-time nanny, with a mother to care for at home.
“But you told me that everything was sorted. You said, ‘Don’t worry about it, Jane. We’ve got it all covered.’”
Mrs. Smith’s expression hardened. Mr. Smith gazed at me.
“That was before the Johnsons refused to sign a business deal with Craig. That was the entire purpose of the holiday. Mr. Smith and I needed to woo them. So, there’s no need to seem generous now, Jane. You have exactly one week to return the money, or it will be taken from your pay.”
I was stunned. The room felt like it was spinning.
“But… I can’t afford that, Mrs. Smith,” I admitted. “Most of my salary goes to the rent at home and my mother’s medication. I can’t take that away from her. And you didn’t mention anything about paying you back!”
“That’s not our problem, Jane. One week,” Mr. Smith reiterated, reaching for a croissant from the tea tray left for Mrs. Smith. With a wave of his hand, he signaled the end of the discussion.
That night, I sat in my tiny room a few feet away from the Smiths’ house. I was seething. How could they do this? I needed a plan, and I needed it fast.
Then it hit me: the Smiths cared deeply about their social standing and their reputation.
“Of course, that’s all they care about,” I muttered to myself as I brushed my teeth before bed. “But I can use that to my advantage.”
The next day, after I dropped the kids off at school, I created a fake email account. I drafted a polite but detailed message about my experience, making sure to be clear without naming any names.
But there were enough telltale signs pointing to the Smiths, from their cars to the kids, to the gold facial appointments that Mrs. Smith bragged about.
Thereafter, I sent it to the key people in their social circle, including the other influential families that the Smiths wanted to be in league with.
“I just don’t understand what they want from us,” I overheard Mrs. Smith say into the phone later that day. “Eva asked me if everything is true, but I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
A few days later, the gossip started spreading. The Smiths’ dirty little secret on how they treated “their staff” was out, and naturally, their reputation took a hit.
Mrs. Smith called in a masseuse to soothe her muscles.
“Just let them into the spa when they arrive, Jane,” she said. “I need all the help I can get.”
Later that day, when I went to pick the kids up from school, the other nannies were hanging about, waiting for the bell to ring.
“Did you read the email about the Smiths?” one of the nannies said. “Jane, are they really like that?”
I nodded.
“They’re good parents, but they’re horrible people,” I admitted, not wanting to give away that I was the person who sent out the email.
“How long will you work for them?” another asked me. “I couldn’t live or work under those circumstances. Rich people need to learn that respect for them is earned, too.”
I smiled.
The nannies went back and forth as we waited. And through their chatter, I discovered something interesting about Mrs. Smith.
Turns out that my employer had a habit of “borrowing” items from her friends and never returning them.
“An entire Gucci handbag, Jane,” Mina said. “Mrs. Smith asked my ma’am if she could borrow it for a fundraising gala two months ago.”
“That’s ridiculous!” I said, shocked. “I didn’t know that she was capable of that sort of thing. But she doesn’t like me getting too close to her things anyway.”
A few days later, Mrs. Smith held one of her ladies’ luncheons. It was a monthly event that she loved hosting, but this time it was only two weeks into the month.
“I need this to go well, Jane,” she said as I cut fruit up for the kids. “So, you need to attend it. The kids will be at school. Everything will be catered for. Just walk around and talk to the women. Make us seem human.”
I knew that she was puzzling. She must have heard more than enough through the grapevine.
During the event, I walked around as requested of me. But I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip. And I had nothing to lose. The Smiths were probably going to fire me at the end of the week when I couldn’t make the $1000.
“We’ll deal with it, darling,” my mother coughed into the phone when I told her the truth of the matter.
At the luncheon, I walked around, casually mentioning to the ladies how much I admired Mrs. Smith’s collection, making sure that I spoke to Eva, Mina’s employer.
“Mrs. Smith has a stunning handbag similar to yours,” I said. “Gucci. Did she lend you this one? She’s always telling me that she lends her things out because she has so much.”
Eva looked at me over the top of her champagne glass.
“Is that so, Jane?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
Whispers started circulating. By the end of the luncheon, Mrs. Smith’s reputation for borrowing without returning was the hot topic.
The next morning, her friends began asking for their things back.
Mrs. Smith was mortified.
During dinner the next night, Mr. Smith called me to the table, asking me to join them.
“Thank you, but I usually wait for Ivy and Melanie to eat,” I said politely, mentioning the chef and her helper.
“No, sit with us,” he insisted.
I obliged.
Despite his tone, I hoped that maybe he was going to tell me that the money could be forgotten. And that everything would return as normal.
“It has come to my attention that an anonymous email has gone out,” he said, cutting into his steak.
“A disgusting email,” Mrs. Smith added, taking a long sip of her wine.
“Did you have anything to do with it?” he asked me, his eyes trying to coax a confession out of me.
I shook my head, looking down at my plate.
“Then that settles it,” he said, knowingly. “You’re dismissed. You can pack up and get out tomorrow.”
I did exactly as I was told and moved back home. A week later, Mrs. Johnson called me.
“Jane, can you come over for tea?” she asked warmly.
“Of course, Mrs. Johnson,” I replied, curious about the nature of the invitation.
As we sat in her luxurious living room, she looked at me with genuine concern.
“I heard about what the Smiths did to you. It’s disgraceful.”
I nodded, trying to keep my composure.
“Well,” she continued. “We’ve decided to cut ties with the Smiths entirely. And we’d like to offer you a job. Better pay, better working conditions. We could use someone like you for our kids.”
I was stunned.
“Of course!” I exclaimed. I needed the job desperately.
“You’ve earned it,” she smiled. “The boys loved having you watch them during the holiday. And somehow, you got Jonathan to eat his peas!”
I don’t know how the Smiths reacted to me working for the Johnsons, but I hoped that they felt betrayed.
What would you have done?
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