Practicing Random Acts Of Kindness,Affirming Prosperity
No-one has ever become poor by giving. ~ Anne Frank
Hello Amazing Person!
You know everything happens for a reason, including finding and reading this letter. This reminder is to let you know that you are so loved and appreciated!
Thank you for being yourself, and not letting others change your mind. Your strength and honesty is recognized by me> many others, too!
The world is a better place because you are in it. Let your inner light shine through in every situation. Know you are loved and protected.
Have faith that where you are now is where you are supposed to be. Dream big, my friend, gigantic, miraculous dreams.
The world needs you!
Keep being awesome!
We love you truly!
The Universe and “Me” Love,Lightand Laughter
You’ve fought the crowds at Wal–Mart and go to the bus stop with your bags, stressed, wondering if you’ll make it through until the next paycheck. As you approach the bench, you see an envelope with hearts drawn everywhere and a handwritten note reading:
“Whoever finds this . . .it’s for you!
Yep,you found it,you are supposed to open it.
As you pick up your envelope, you turn it over and see:
“Open …Read …Keep! Practice random acts of kindness.”
From early childhood I loved writing letters. Considering my father was a proud postal worker (completely opposite of the disgruntled postal worker title)–and from day one taught me how to correctly address an envelope; and the capital of each state. I wrote my first letters very early. A childhood friend told me, as early as three or four years old [I was reading and writing before age 3]; “you used to send me letters and you wrote stories“.
Apparently,they were original stories.It was no surprise when I started school,I would win several writing awards in my lifeandam a published writer,produced playwrightand have professionally written two screenplays.
The other thing I became noted for was my lovely handwriting. I remember the day that happened. Up to the beginning of 5th Grade, my printing and beginning cursive was like any other child of my age.I preferred writing on lined paper to make all my letters the right size. Then, I saw my teachers’ handwriting – it was gorgeous, a thing of beauty. Her name was Anne Rhodes: She was harsh, as a teacher, grumpy. [Ms. Rhodes was the older sister of the Congressman John J. Rhodes]. I asked her how she made her handwriting so beautiful. Ms. Rhodes told me, “You just do it!” I decided I would, from that day forward; my handwriting was neat and has brought me many compliments through my nearly half century on this planet.
Early on, around the age of 10, I was already an avid Anglophile [A person who is fond of or greatly admires England or Britain]. So, I wrote a letter and addressed it to “Any girl between the ages of 8-12 in London, England”; my father mailed it overseas for me. Some weeks later, I received a letter from a girl a year younger, give or take, than me in Skegness, Lincolnshire, England; Joanna Foreman and I wrote, drew pictures and kept in touch until we were in our 20s. We have never met in person. Joanna is now in the South of France, married, a mother and a newscaster. I have tried to get in touch with her to no avail (so far).
When I started doing school and community theatre in my hometown of Phoenix, Arizona; my opening night gifts were usually handwritten notes to my other cast members – telling them how much I enjoyed working with them. I was pen pals with several friends, too. By my mid-20s, though, as we were just getting computers and the basic beginnings of email. . .I got out of the habit of handwriting things. . . true for many of us.
All my life, for the most part, I have been into spiritual studies, everything from the Golden Rule to my first “self-help” book at the age of 15-years-old – Your Erroneous Zone by Dr.Wayne Dyer. Soon after, I moved ontoCreative Visualization by Shakti Gawain; which, for many of us, was our first peek atLaw of Attraction.
Inspired by Oprah Winfrey and hearing her story, a devotee of Law of Attraction (LOA) and thinking about all the miracles I, myself, and others had created in our lives with creative visualization and the new Law of Attraction movement – I started my own LOA Meet-Up Group in Queens, New York. For my birthday in 2007 – three of us, from my LOA Meet-Up Group passed out $5.00 bills [we each donated $100, split into twenty $5.00 bills]. Taking a cue from the homeless who step onto a car and do a spiel about hard times and needing some money to feed their children, or get a meal, etc. We followed that script with a twist.
“Hello, I’m sorry to interrupt you. My name is Angela, life has been good to me. And I here to give everyone on this train [subway] $5.00 to say ‘My life is going great’!”
We had some people who looked at us funny or refused the money, others asked if it was real, and some gladly received the gift! One homeless man kissed the $5.00 bill over and over! Another young college student told me, “I don’t have money for f!!#k!” I handed her the $5.00 bill and said, “Now, you buy some f!#k!” We both had a good laugh. It felt rather incredible!
Which brings me to something I read about recently: It was a post on one of my many LOA Facebook groups – An LOA group. I started my own group – in order to practice the art of tithing (giving):
I took to it immediately and began writing anonymous, handwritten, love letters to strangers! Brilliant! As someone who has felt left-out, depressed and been teased growing up; it certainly was great when someone would encourage me to keep going.
I read the stories, and the main story about the woman who made the news with her love letters to strangers. Yes, in my years, and with all those self-help, spiritual and law of attraction books I have read cover to cover, all these years; I had heard stories of people receiving anonymous letters that changed their outlook; i.e.When Carol Burnett was a young girl, she needed $50.00 to attend an acting class.She worked very hard to earn the money to no avail. Then, she came home one day and found an anonymous envelope in her mailbox; it contained a note and $50.00 for her class.
This was how her career started! The note merely said it was for her class – the exact amount – and stated the belief that Carol would be successful. Carol Burnett never found out who gave her that gift. It could not have been her mother or family, as they did not have the money.
BURNETT: No, I never made up my mind — I never said that to myself, I just wasn’t that interested in, you know — and I always felt there was something that was going to happen. I always — Ivisualized myself in certain places. And, you know, we were poor.
But I always knew something good was going to happen. And one time I visualized myself going to UCLA, which I wanted to do very badly. And we didn’t have the tuition for it, you know. And I had the grades. And the tuition, get this, was $43.
MORGAN: Is that what it was?
BURNETT: Yes. And we were on welfare and so couldn’t do that. And my grandmother wanted me to go to some Woodberry College for secretaries so I could nab the boss.
BURNETT: You know? To her it was get a rich man.
BURNETT: And I said, no, I know I’m going to get — I’m going to get to go to UCLA. And we lived in this one-room apartment off of Hollywood Boulevard, and our door opened into the lobby and I could see the pigeon-hole letter boxes. And this one — and it was my little chore to run out and get the letters if there was one in our slot.
And I — this one morning I came out and saw this letter and then I got it and it was addressed to me.With a $0.03 stamp on it, but it hadn’t been mailed, hadn’t been canceled. An address, typewritten, I opened it up and out came a $50 bill.
To this day, I don’t know where that came from.
BURNETT: We didn’t have the money.
MORGAN: What an extraordinary story.
BURNETT: Yes. It just happened. And that was — that’s how I got to UCLA.
And even when my group gave out the $5.00 bills . . . our intention was to pay it forward, to give to the world to affirm our belief in prosperity.
Thus, when I was reminded of how wonderful it is to give to others with unconditional love, just, if nothing else, to make someone’s day! I wrote some anonymous love letters. I wrote what I felt I would want to hear, what would encourage me. Sure, I borrowed some words from those who had already started this movement, and wrote many of my own. As I heard what many of the love letters were doing – where they would leave these notes, etc. – I went out and left my envelopes on subway seats, bus seats, in trees and shrubs, in bicycle baskets. I did this all around my home – at the time – in Union City, NJ.
Often it impressed me how I found interesting places to put the letters – i.e. in the card slot at a little store on Bergenline Street; the window of one the Jitney vans; on the table inside the post office and among the toiletries in a Duane Reade in Port Authority, New York.
I vowed, in February 2013, to write, at least, one love letter a day for the entire year. Having fallen behind, I now write about seven to fourteen in batches. Now, they are placed in my new neighborhood of Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, New York and heading into Manhattan and often in Manhattan. Wherever I’m traveling.
My goal is place them without being seen. . .hard in the crowded streets of New York. Still, I manage to do it.
There were a couple of very special moments for me.
In one of my first batches, I was on the A Train returning from a friend’s place in Washington Heights [left several letters in that area, too]. A woman came onto the crowded train and took the only vacant seat beside me. She looked upset, sad and in pain (emotional). My urge was to give her a letter – she, obviously needed some cheering up or an encouraging word. Too embarrassed to just hand it to her [she might think I’m weird], when she was getting off the train – and I still had a few stops to go; as she stood up, I handed her one of my envelopes and said, “I was told to give this to you!”
The woman took the letter, smiled a bit and said “Thank you.”
Also, since February, in several of the letters, to affirm prosperity, I’ve slipped in $1.00 bills. Just a little gift for them; as we all know the little thrill it is finding a dollar on the ground. I have started, also, printing half of the letters – andplacing them near middle schools with $1.00 in them– just in case a child finds them and cannot read cursive yet! Also, with young children, $1.00 is considered an incredible treasure to find!
Finally, I really wanted to see how it affected the finder and reader of these letters. One time, with my friend, Fredy — again, on the A Train going toward Manhattan, from Washington Heights. I place one of the envelopes across from us on the vacant subway car.
As the subway filled up with rushing people, we witnessed this:
A middle-aged man, carrying a backpack, went to sit on the vacant seat with our envelope there, reading: FOR YOU, YES YOU!
He, with a sort of scowl on his face coming into the train, took on a slight smile as he picked up the envelope. Fredy and I tried not to stare, but watched him.
He read the envelope, turned it over a few times, readying “Practice more random acts of kindness”, etc. He carefully opens the envelope – trying not to rip the flap with my words and drawn little hearts – he did a good job.
He unfolded the heart-shaped paper and began reading my lovely cursive; the scowl now turned to a smile and he seemed moved. He stared at the letter a few seconds after reading, turned it over again. He carefully folded it back, as if it was delicate and important to him, and put it back in the envelope. He held tightly to the letter. Then, a few minutes later, he opened it again and re-read it! This time with that happy smile of a person who really needed to hear/see those words. He was moved and it nearly made mecry.
Once again returning it carefully to its envelope, he exited the train, carefully making sure he had the love letter for him!
My friends, it feels good, even just knowing you are making someone’s day. You may change a life or encourage someone to pursue their dreams. You may be a catalyst to someone in the world who needed exactly your words of encouragement, at that exact moment. Everything happens for a reason.
Go ahead; check out my page or the pages below . . . start spreading love to the world, one stranger at a time.You may be the very miracle someone needs. You may save a life, change a life, for the better, comfort a bullied child or adult, help someone get through another hard day.
The truth is clear. The more you give, the more that comes to you. It is the law of nature. What you give out comes back to you tenfold. Oprah has and is giving away millions of dollars, all the time. She is blessed with success all the time. Angelina Jolie, Brad Pitt and Bill Gates are “givers” – money, time and more. They are all millionaires or billionaires.
Whatever you believe, the Universe has blessed these givers with financial security, loving families and joy.
Here are links, once again, to several of the love lettering Facebook pages and websites.
If, by chance, you were in Union City, NJ. . . Manhattan, NY . . . or Washington Heights. . .on the A Train or at Port Authority … or in Brooklyn, NY . . . and have found one of my letters, please, drop me a note here or in one or all of the groups!
A few weeks ago, someone I used to call a friend, posted in a public forum that I, Angela Theresa “Curry’s Angel” Collins-Egic, am just “not that memorable”; also, I apparently “lack charisma” to boot.
Since I originally penned this article (last week) — a little glitch in my life [an abnormal mammogram and upcoming needle biopsy to see if its benign or malignant] has caused me to think about memory, being remembered, etc. Two and a half years shy of my half-century mark, I’m having the longevity conversation with myself . So, as I chronicle my life, up to now and hopefully well into the next fifty or so years.
The person who said this does need a little introduction, because to most of you, he’s not that memorable, I would think. To most of my readers, he’s unknown, in fact:
He was born Andrew Martin Arnold but solely uses the stage name of Andrew Martin now. It suits him well.
When we met, back in 1985…I thought he was a 17-year-old girl. Andrew would tell you the same; that he looked like a 17-year-old girl.
For a few of those youthful years, Andrew did start wearing women’s clothing, taking my hand-me-downs, in fact; and marketed his transvestite image. He utilized my talents and Susie “Squeaky” Schwartzberg’s talent to do two cabaret acts at a venue called Jason’s Park Royal. The first one titled: THE LADY AND HIS MUSIC.
He wasMiss Andrew, in every sense of the word. A talented, off-the-wall and interesting young gay man.
To some degree, he and I were as close as any two friends could be. Andrew and I met at an 8th Street pizza joint called Bennie’s [worst pizza ever – yet we ate a slice every week]. The day I walked in there, across the street from 8thStreet Playhouse in NYC; on my way to see the NY showing of ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW: I met these two girls, [I thought]; when the very thin, flat-chested one told me her name was “Andrew”. I was a little taken aback. The shorter one, with a tomboyish charm [yet, was obviously female] was “Barbara”.
Really, they didn’t even look related. Nevertheless, they were: fraternal twins.
It didn’t take long to figure out that both Andrew and Barbara were talented, intelligent teens. In fact, wise beyond their years! I instantly adored them. Through them, I met some great people, many of whom are still friends today; including Barbara and Andrew. Except, the friendship with Andrew has ended a few times and we are, as of July 2011, not on good terms . . . which is what I’m writing about.
In 1985, though, Andrew, Barbara and I, and a few others became a gang of misfits, at a place where us misfits fit in. There was the “8th Street Gang [Cast]” and “us”. “Us” who wanted to be in the 8th Street cast—all of us talented enough, yet not popular enough – to Sal Piro, at least. Being that Sal is the President of the Official RHPS Fan Club and cast the floorshow (now called shadowcasts) back then. We were still misfits.
We showed up every week, though, at 8th Street Playhouse – Miss Andrew, Barbara Arnold, Susie “Squeaky” Schwartzberg, Phil Dejean, Shawn Rozsa, Mad Man Mike, Andy Grondahl, Hawkeye, A.J. and many more. Since Sal seemed to have blacklisted quite a few of us from being in the popular 8th Street cast…I found us another way!
I moved to Brooklyn and heard about a midnight showing of RHPS on Saturday midnight. When I heard the floorshow [shadowcast] was thrown out, I grabbed my mis-fitted friends and swooped in to have our own show. I wanted to have the best cast! A cast that would have people saying we were “as good as the 8th Street cast” or “better than”!
I just wanted Sal to see how talented we were and have him, finally, offer us a role in the big show in Manhattan; or acknowledge us, at the very least.
We put the show together, quickly. I had every intention of playing ‘Magenta’; no one wanted to play ‘Frank N. Furter’, oddly. Inspired by an 8th Street idol of mine, Julie Calabrese, I molded myself into ‘Frank N. Furter’. Oh yes, and my other idol, Dori Hartley. [She, Dori, had moved on with her life before I had arrived in New York, though].
Our (really, my) cast, The Low Down Cheap Little Punks, at Brooklyn’s Marboro Theater, became known as one the best casts in the East coast – comparable to Manhattan’s 8th Street Playhouse! At least, as far as I was concerned! Sal Piro eventually took most of my cast into his cast – so, that tells you something. Some of the top cast members of Sal’s 8th Street group, in 1986, got their start in MY CAST!
As time went on, around 1987, when I began working in a talent agency – we represented Sal Piro – Sal and I started a professional, respectful friendship: I’ve attended many Rocky Horror conventions where Sal and I had some great conversations. My favorite was a Las Vegas convention, in the 90s, when Sal introduced me as “one of the most dedicated” fans of RHPS.
Sal also put me in his 2nd RHPS book Creatures of the Night II;invited me to be part of the first television showing of RHPS at FX Studios [I went as Frank N. Furter, of course]; and Sal asked me take his RHPS items to an Albany, NY convention when he couldn’t attend.
In the early years, I was at every convention from the 10th Anniversary (Beacon Theater) – and where my original costume – “Curry’s Angel” brought me Good Morning America and newspaper reporters and photographer’s interviewing me about “who” I was.
Found out, later, one of the friends’ buzzing about me told the reporters that my real name was Angela Curry . . . and that I was Tim Curry’s real-life niece!!!
I hadn’t even met Tim Curry, at that point!
Nevertheless, the next morning, as my interview aired, millions of viewers thought I was, indeed, Tim Curry’s niece as the name ANGELA CURRY was emblazoned at the bottom part of the screen. Coincidentally, when I finally did met TC, it would be revealed how much I resembled his real-life niece. I believe she, Tim Curry’s real-life niece (he has three); one resembles me [I’m older, I believe]; she, my doppleganger Curry niece, has aged much better than me, though.
About three weeks ago – on the Facebook 8th Street Playhouse page – to be told by Miss Andrew that I am “not that memorable” and that I lack “charisma”, really got up my crawl!
We must also remember, after 1987, Andrew disappeared from the RHPS fan base and refused to be part of any of our conventions, get-togethers, etc. until about 2008 or 2009.
In short, while I was involved, actively from 1983 (AZ) to 1984-1987 (NY) and then from 1988-now at conventions, another stint as ‘Frank N. Furter’ in Arizona in the 90s, made a “rock-u-mentary (1990) w/the AZ group, talked to Tim Curry and had many conversations with Sal Piro, Patricia Quinn and Richard O’Brien and too many cast(s) – all the way to England – and had a RHPS newsletter – fans from as far as Italy and France writing me fan mail . . . Really?! Not memorable? No charisma? Me?
Are you talking to me, Andrew? Unmemorable, little ole me?
Andrew claims “more people” remember him from those days. I might agree with him about that, of course. My argument is NOT the numbers; it’s the words about a personality – no charisma, not very memorable. Are those words you say to a friend? A friend so instrumental in so many memories, my own and in his, and many others!
There are people from “those days” who approach me, remember me, actually . . . whom I cannot, for the life of me, remember at all. BUT, friend or foe, I would never be so rude to say to them: “you’re not very memorable” or “you must’ve lacked charisma”.
Hell, for all I know, they are very memorable and have tons of charisma – I just wasn’t lucky enough to see it and or get to know this great person at the time. My loss.
Which was my point with Andrew Martin, supposedly my friend … he went on to remind me and the group how “everyone remembers him” and “hardly anyone” remembers me. A snob! An ego-maniac.
A very insecure person, envious of my involvement and part of this history. Andrew missed the years between 1987-2007, when we had reunion’s, conventions and were interviewed by German, French and British TV shows and even American specials.
After I blocked him on Facebook – had unfriended him months ago when he posted some rude, jealous and snobby remark on my wall – I actually just feel sorry for him. He is, insecure. He is dysfunctional much more than most of us. I claim to have empathy.
Of course, without proper, professional diagnosis, I can say, from my experience (in life) – I find Andrew shows signs of classic Narcissist Personality Disorder. I had another friend with a professional diagnosis of the disorder – thus, I see the similar signs in Andrew.
This means, I really should be empathetic. Yet, I, too, have my ego and insecurities, as well. I guess we’re all a bit narcissist in the theatre business!
A recent scare, which I’m still dealing with calmly, made me think about . . . well, being remembered, etc. and how we are remembered.
I have no fear of death, itself, yet I don’t want to do it right now. I want to see one hundred years on this earth, I mean, if I’m capable and not crippled up, etc. Yet, as I have had friends pass on – far too many for someone my age – it makes me think about who will remember me? Who will share these memories with me, of me and our times in the 1980s?
If Andrew is right, and I’m not that memorable or charismatic — me being there was all, I don’t know, an illusion.
I thought I finally did fit in. I had found my people – the different, the misfits, the unusual – and now, maybe I am still an alien, the kid easiest to bully, the ugly one, the forgettable one.
Sure, I know it’s not true, really.
Andrew is trying to hurt me to make himself feel better – for his insecurities – yet, he succeeded. As really, no one even stood up for me!
I may understand why, though – Andrew will argue, filibuster – and would’ve pestered anyone who dares speak up for me. Because I spoke up for me and he went on and on until I ended it by blocking him! It just would’ve soothed my ego (of course, not my authentic self as “ego” is the false self) if someone had spoken up for me.
I guess we can say Rocky Horror Picture Show also attracts insecure people all around! Yikes!
P.S. I have to mention tarot cards. Why? Because it’s getting me more traffic than any other search!!! LOL! Over 400 people per week search tarot cards. And, oh yeah, I do tarot card, Archangel Michael Oracle Card & Archangel Oracle Card readings! Email me: “Tarot Readings”–AngelAura28@yahoo.com [Tarot Card Reading: $15.00 Full/In-Depth Reading]
DayOne–HundredEight(108): Wednesday, June 16th,2010
108)Choose ToPursue Wealthor Poverty
People in religious orders may take a vow of poverty but not a vow to acquire wealth and material possessions. Poverty has somehow always equated with deeply held spiritual aspiration whereas the pursuit of wealth often has been perceived as a selfish desire for things of the flesh instead of the spirit. The Law of Attraction, as you have already learned, is indifferent; it gives you whatever you think and feel you deserve. When you give yourself over to increase in your life, you are giving fuller expression to the abundance of the Divine Intelligence within you. However, if you seek poverty, the Law of Attraction will make it so. Proponents of the Law of Attraction say it is up to you to choose.
According to my notes . . . did the City Sights tour, as usual and was taken to Brooklyn. The Brooklyn tour could and should be much more interesting, if you ask me. Yes, I make it as interesting as possible. I just think it would be more fun, for City Sight and the tourists if we drove to place like Coney Island and stopped, as a bus, to grab a hot dog; or work out something with Nathan’s or the ice cream shop at the Fulton Ferry Landing — to bring something onto the bus?!
Anyway, my past includes two stints in Brooklyn. I lived in Bensonhurst in 1985-1986 with my roommate Betsy. And for the life of me I cannot remember her real last name. I called her “Betsy Ross” and it may have been her real name. I know she attended FIT (Fashion Institute of Technology) and was originally from Rhode Island. It may be been “Betsey”. Not sure, though.
The second time I live in Brooklyn was 1988 when I was dating Vinny Saladino. Vinny and his mother lived in the Marboro Projects. But his cousin, Patty, had a house in Bensonhurst. Patty and her husband lived in the main part of this three-story house. They had converted the upstairs 2nd and 3rd floor (attic) into apartments and rented them out. I lived in the attic apartment with Arleen Fackina.
Arleen and I had our ups and downs, and it’s a story for a long time. Only about a year or less ago, I “unfriended” her on facebook and really, although I’d be civil (and miss the woman she used to be) — cannot speak to her. In the passing years, Arleen has become cold, bitter and negative — at least, about my life — and really, about hers. She always had strange, old-fashioned, limiting and depressing ideas about life — I decided to focus on more positive people. She was one of quite a few negative people I have been unfriending or blocking (I didn’t block her as she isn’t that terrible).
To get back to positivity, joy, etc. in one’s life . . . means, often, letting that which is toxic and/or just negative (including people) . . . move away from your life.
No, I’m not perfect, I have my days . . . some of them shared here. And letting go of what one knows, or is used to, can be very much a death experience. As Dr. Wayne Dyer quoted, “You have to die before you can live.” And in death there is mourning.
Of course, when it comes to letting go of a way of life — long-term relationships, being the one who always jokes about being broke or a starving artist (that’s me) — at first, is not exactly just quick. The ego can often take years to actually kill or restrain enough to dissipate its hold on one’s personality. Sometimes it just slips into a coma, only to reawaken at the first sign of weakness on your part. The ego may only go into remission for years and stay there — still, it is part of the journey to contain it and move it into our true nature — positivity.
There is enough for everyone!
There’s room for all people to succeed and prosper!
To achieve the manifestation of the greater good, a spell might be cast, a blood-letting undertaken, a sacrifice made, or a dream incubated. For example, the shamans of several Native American tribes underwent vision quests, performed shamanic healings, sat in sweat lodges, and engaged in sun dances. They chanted incantations to ward off attacks by aggressive Europeans. That’s not to say that they always got what they wanted because the law, when opposite poles of attraction are set up, responds to the more powerful vibrational pull or yields a less strong or, in some cases, a mixed result. Native Americans performed incantations but were still attacked and lost battles to their powerful enemies whose forces, goals, and intentions proved stronger.
Yesterday, I spoke of some of my gifts . . .
Since it is day 87, it reminded me of 1987 as that was a pivotal year for me, regarding spirituality, Law of Attraction and beginnings and endings.
Most of it began pretty early on, February 1987. My father has been ill, with cancer and a strange accident in the hospital in October or November and wasn’t expected to live. He was laying, in an open-eyed coma at the Veteran’s Administration Hospital in Phoenix, AZ. I was back in Astoria (Queens), New York waiting to hear from Mom of any changes.
At Christmas, I flew home to visit with my parents. Daddy was already in the Veteran’s Hospital. A couple of months earlier, when, after a major surgery to remove his lung and part of his jaw — in ICU; my father had, in the middle of the night, fallen out of bed [according to a nurse’s report] and died for 15-minutes. After they resuscitated him and place Daddy on life-support they phoned my mother, announcing him brain-dead.
Before pulling the plug, Mom and I decided to make sure and had several neurosurgeon give their opinion; including, two top ones’ from New York. He was, indeed, by all accounts, brain-dead. We pulled the plug. From that day forward, my father was breathing on his own and only had a feeding tube and other tubes to sustain life. His breathing was his own.
This all happened at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Phoenix, AZ. I was told, by my mother, to stay in New York with my job and life, etc.
All the while, one of my dearest friends from Roosevelt Island, NY, Susan “Susie” Schwartzberg, only age 19, was battling her cancer. She had a tumor in her face; a tumor that first appeared when she was 5-years-old, was treated and went into remission and re-emerged at the age of 17.
My life, at this time was Rocky Horror Picture Show, Tim Curry and my job at a fashion showroom, as an Administrative Assistant. I worked in New York’s Garment District; just above Calvin Klein. At work, on the old-fashioned man-operated elevator, I saw people such as: Joan Rivers, Calvin Klein and Angela Jagger (one of Mick’s former wives). I was also involved with a cabaret act, began by good friend, Andrew Martin Arnold. Susie and I were both in this act.
Admittedly, the cabaret act was a great idea and Andrew’s baby. He, at that time, was a talented young gay man, one of my first Rocky Horror friends in New York who, through the years, has done a lot in the cabaret world of New York. He also has dealt with many of his life demons, some of them very well and some of them not so well. We had re-acquainted a few years back [three or four years ago] and a few months ago; after some on-line conversations that were, to me, rather condescending, childish and rude [not unusual, unfortunately, for Andrew] — I decided to unfriend him on facebook. I didn’t block him, nevertheless. Anyway, long story for another time.
In 1987, he and Susie were a huge part of my social life. We spent a lot of time together and the rest of my cast at my Brooklyn theatre, Marboro. Near Bensonhurst (Brooklyn). My Rocky Horror cast performing one night of the weekend and the other night we hung out the infamous 8th Street Playhouse in Greenwich Village (with the NYC Rocky Horror cast).
In the meantime, I felt, in my gut, I was getting closer and closer to living my dream of meeting and getting to know Tim Curry. I was not wrong!
In the early hours of February 4th, I was awoken from my sleep by a familiar voice. I heard my father say, “Wake up, little one. It’s time.”
At the foot of my bed stood my father, Michael Egic. He was a bit translucent and appeared similar to the Star Trek tv show; we used to watch together, right before they were beamed back completely–and my father stood there. Seeing as my father still lay in a coma in Arizona and I was there, in my Queens, NY apartment — it occurred to me quickly, he was passing on and stopped to bid me goodbye.
Daddy and I had a conversation, which I’ll share another time; he went “into the light” which, he told me, he kept seeing. I went back to sleep, forgot it all until I got to work later that morning — and it came flooding back.
My father died the same day as Liberace. February 4th, 1987
A few months later, August 28th, 1987 . . . after five years of hoping, praying, imagining the day. I finally met the man: The one, the only TIM CURRY! I met him, just me and no other fans, at 1515 Broadway (now MTV Studios), which, at that time housed Minskoff Rehearsal Studios. Tim was there rehearsing the Broadway touring show ME AND MY GIRL.
On my birthday, September 28th, I turned 24-years-old; I went to see Susie in Sloane Kettering Hospital, where she stayed because her cancer (tumor) had progressed. She was legally blind now, due to the location of the tumor and going deaf in one ear. Prognosis was not good. In fact, when I arrived at the hospital, Susie was all excited to tell me about her bouquet of flowers from her favorite actor, Christopher Reeve [before his tragic accident, mind you]. I told I met Tim Curry; but played it down for Susie to have her moment and celebrate Christopher Reeve’s gift to her.
In November 1987, I received a call from Susie . . . from her home on Roosevelt Island [I had lived with her and her family briefly the year before]. She was inviting me to her 20th birthday party. Her voice, now very damaged from the tumor, was barely understandable.
A note on Susie’s voice: When she had the tumor at age 5. The chemotherapy and the placement of the tumor damaged her nasal passages and she had very buck teeth and the highest voice . . . so high, we called her “Squeaky” . . . but wow, what a high soprano she was when she sang in our cabaret group! Now, due to the progression of the tumor; she slurred her words and the high pitch was just difficult to understand.
My friend, Arleen and I, attended Susie’s 20th birthday party. It was evident, Squeaky would not be with us much longer. She died a few days later.
In late 1986, too . . .my poor mother lost her brother, Curly [Everett Collins] and her sister, Mary Margaret Ream to cancer, also. Both in Arizona.
Curly was an interesting uncle and caused much problems in my immediate family. I’ll elaborate at a later time.
Mary was good, as I remember her and I was close to her children, my cousins and keep in touch with one, to this day. I talk to her other three children, too . . . just not as often as my cousin, Linda.
When a leader and a group of people are holding a common vision for a goal, feeling expectant and joyful about the possibility of achieving it, and remaining focused while also putting energy toward accomplishing the goal every day, they are following a powerful recipe for success in manifesting their collective desire.
The Jews’ goal was to get to the Promised Land even though it meant that they had to walk for forty years in the desert. Nevertheless, their belief that God was guiding them remained strong, steady, and focused. It allowed for their miraculous crossing of the Red Sea, safe passage through lands owned by their enemies, and, finally, entry to the Promised Land, the culmination of their jointly held dream.
Shanghaied to Brooklyn again . . .
I was, once again, on tour sent to do the Brooklyn tour. In a way, it’s a blessing. They are less strict at the South Street Seaport stop. I can use a bathroom or get lunch without being pressured to jump on and start again.
Callbacks for TestoGenius . . . Meeting Bridgette Boucher:
Only had one actor show up tonight, a deaf actor named Mauricio Vanegas. Bridgette did a great audition with him. We had him translate some of the script. Then, Bridgette had him tell two stories to us; so we could see him express emotions.
Bridgette and I also thought it a good idea to cast two deaf actors. It is more difficult to find deaf actors than hearing, at least, in my hearing world.
I’m looking forward to seeing my work up on stage . . .
Detractors say that the potential to acquire money and material things exists for a few but not everyone. MOney is to be made by those who know how to capitalize on the Law of Attraction topic. The Law of Attraction teachers and coaches say that the law is always working and once you know how to work deliberately with it, you can draw whatever you want from the storehouse of the universe. You have the potential to manifest one dollar or a million dollars. You could establish a hospital, fund an orphanage, or build a social club for senior citizens. Anything you want to create is possible provided you have desire, intention, and persistance. You already have the means–your thoughts–assert proponents of the law. Your potential for manifesting is limitless.
Went to work today . . . again and I was shanghaied! After my second tour to Battery Park, I was sent to South Street Seaport to do a Brooklyn tour.
Brooklyn tours aren’t my strong point . . . and I didn’t bring my guide books. I remembered some of the Brooklyn info., yet, without my little book it was difficult to remember it all.
The good part of the Brooklyn tour . . . and I ended up doing two in a row . . . once you do the 2nd one, you get to go back to Times Square and home for the day.
Thus, it is almost better to be shanghaied to Brooklyn. I just must remember to carry my guide books.