Skydive!

My brother, Michael, and I had been off seeking separate adventures when we decided to embark on one together. Still asserting our independence, we chose the 4^th of July. We were going skydiving.

Our course at the Perris Valley Skydiving School was an all day venture, preparing us for our static line jumps. (This was before tandem jumping became popular.) The class involved a full day of training where we learned how to toggle right and left, pull the parachute open, pull the reserve chute open if we had to, jump out of the plane properly, and land safely.

We had to read a statement to a video camera that said we were releasing the school from any liability should anything go wrong, and that we would not sue them. This made my stomach queasy. Luckily we had an attorney in our class who told us not to worry because it wouldn’t hold up in court. So we all read the “I won’t sue you if I’m mangled or dead” statement and moved on to the next stage which was getting geared up for the jump. I chose a red one-piece jumpsuit that zipped up the front and fit perfectly, a white helmet, and wore tennis shoes with rubber tread that I hoped would adhere me securely to the ground upon landing.

We went up in the small plane, three at a time, with the lightest weight person being in the back of the plane & the heaviest up front.

The thoughts that raced through my mind in the back of the noisy plane before it was my turn to jump were thoughts of things left to do in my life, if onlys and what ifs. Like, did I tell my family and friends how very much I love them, and how much more I really wanted to accomplish in life before leaving this planet. Being the last to go gave me too much time to think. But, by the time I scooted up to the open plane door, and reached for the bar under the wing, I was resolved to whatever happened. I wasn’t jumping, after all. I was releasing. Letting go. Into the sky. Into the vast open space. Into all that is. Into the Universe.

The instructor was right next to us, making sure that our static line was properly attached, and that we made our way out under the wing safely. At the edge of the open door, I reached for the bar under the wing and then shimmied myself out of the plane, holding onto the bar securely until my instructor yelled “Skydive!”

We had been taught to release our hands from the bar & throw them up behind us, with our backs arched and our heads looking up. I remembered the camera attached under the wing and when I released my hands, made sure to look up and smile. Oh, the benefits of being an actress!

Moments after letting go of the bar, the static line pulled the chute open, and I rested in the whooshing sound of the air, and the peacefulness of the infinite sky. The earth was beneath me and its beauty was breathtaking. Perris Valley itself isn’t that spectacular, mostly dirt and dust, but I was floating, gliding, free falling, suspended in time. It only lasted a few minutes, but it felt like forever.

I can see why skydiving is addicting, because once you hit the ground you want to be up in the air again, like a bird, flying free. With a parachute for wings, and toggles to guide the direction of your descent, you actually have some control in the midst of having none.

What a rush! What a joyous rush! Mixed with fear, overcoming my fear, letting go, releasing from holding on, being out of control, silence like I’ve never known before, utter relief upon landing safely, and the pure exhilaration at having accomplished something so daring. I have to skydive again!

Taking a Bite out of the Big Apple

I couldn’t wait to get out of high school. Not that I didn’t enjoy it, just that I was ready to be out in the world and off on my own. I was determined to go to New York City to become an actress. I had been preparing for this dream since the age of four when I was the youngest of the Snow children in the musical “Carousel” at the Ottumwa Heights Community College.

I always knew what I wanted to do. Being constrained by the demands of school and the responsibilities of being the oldest of five were too confining for my wild spirit. I needed a bigger playing field, a place to spread my wings. I needed to fly away from the Home of the Heartland and take a bite out of the Big Apple.

When graduation day came, there was no one more excited to flip that tassel to the ‘just graduated’ side of my cap and then toss it way up in the air, the way I’d seen Marlo Thomas do it in her television series, “That Girl.” I was heading to NYC to become ‘that girl’ – the one that was chosen for the role.

I loved performing in the school plays at Assumption High School. I auditioned for every one. We did one play, one musical, and one variety show every year. I played the lead role in almost every production during my four years at AHS. Anne Frank in the Diary of Anne Frank, Marian the Librarian in The Music Man, Fanny Brice in Funny Girl, Dolly Tate in Annie Get Your Gun, and more.

I was a cheerleader, on the gymnastics team, on the track team, and the debate team. I was in the Assumptionaires singing group, on the student council, and in the thespian society. So you see, I made the best of my time while in school, but I was bursting out of my catholic school uniform ready to cheer my way onto the Broadway stage. Rah, yea, I’ve got it, uh huh!

I arrived in New York City in the fall of 1978, a few months after graduating high school, wide-eyed and fully prepared, or so I thought. I was attending the American Academy of Dramatic Arts on Madison Avenue, and living at the Biltmore Hotel on 42^nd Street. The 26th floor was run by two ex-nuns and was for women only. There was a large room at the end of the hall where we could have gentleman callers visit. Very old-fashioned, even then.

Though I had left my home and high school behind, I had rules to follow in my new living environment, and huge requirements to meet within the four walls of my new school. We weren’t supposed to take classes outside of school, or get representation, and we weren't supposed to be auditioning for acting jobs, but I did all three within the first year.

That summer, when all the AADA students went home to see their families and enjoy their break, I stayed in NYC and got my career off and running.

I signed with a manager & agent and started auditioning for commercials, plays and films. I took acting classes with the head of the Neighborhood Playhouse, Bill Alderson and learned the Sanford Meisner technique. I studied singing with Renee Guerin & Sue Seton, and took commercial acting with Bob Collier. Needless to say, I didn't return to school for a second year. I was already on my way to being a working actress.

My first commercial was Fruit Fresh, playing a daughter & wife whose peaches were brown & runny until my mother recommended using Fruit Fresh. My TV husband said to me, “Your mom’s peaches are delicious,” as he tasted one, leaving me standing there holding my glass bowl of brown & yucky peaches. This was how I got my SAG card, and I became a proud member of the Screen Actors Guild in 1980.

I’d go on to make six figures those first few years in New York. Six figures in my twenties in the 80’s. The advertising world was booming and I was in business!

Iowa felt really far behind now.

If Only . . .

If only I’d had more confidence at a younger age. I was unsure of myself, and possibly, rightly so when you consider the big dreams I had and the small town where those dreams began.

My father was a dentist and my mother was a registered nurse who gave up her nursing career to raise five children and take care of her husband and the home. My parents really wanted me to go to college, at the very least, to have something to fall back on.

“You need to have something to fall back on. A college degree is necessary,” they would chime in together.

“But I know what I want to do with my life,” I said. “Isn’t that what people go to college for? To figure out what they want to do with their life?”

“But they get a degree that way,” my parents would say, “and they can do anything with that degree.”

“Well, I don’t need a college degree for the work I want to do,” I responded stubbornly.

Or I should say, clearly, because I was very clear about what I wanted to do. It wasn’t about becoming a star or gaining fame, it was about becoming a working actress. I wanted to make a living doing what I loved. After all, hadn’t my dad taught me, “do what you love and the money will follow.” I wasn’t worried about the money. I wanted to work. In big projects with good actors.

So, my parents helped me. Dad gave me financial support and mom took me to Chicago for a regional audition for the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York City. I did two monologues, one comic and one dramatic, and was accepted immediately on the spot. The man who I auditioned for followed me out of the room and said to my mother, with a knowing and concerned parental look, “You have a very talented daughter, but you know what this means?”

Freedom, and the beginning of living my dream, is what it meant for me. My mother would say, over the years when she saw me struggling, “If only your father and I were in show business and we could help you more.” But I was content to make my own way.

In the 1980’s I would have a minimum of twelve national television commercials on the air. That meant I was being paid for Class A National Usage, and that in my early twenties I was making a six figure income. Still, I had bigger dreams, and felt myself frustrated in the midst of monetary success. I had never thought about doing television commercials or soap operas. My dreams had been theatre and films. But New York City was an expensive place to live and a tough nut to crack.

If only I was able to get the work I really wanted. If only I was taller, prettier, leaner. If only I came out of the acting departments at Harvard or Yale. If only I didn’t get so nervous when I was auditioning for a part I really wanted. If only I didn’t want it so badly. If only my agent would get me out on better roles in bigger & better projects. If only was going to kill me if I didn’t stop thinking about it.

And, if only would change over the years. Living in LA, it was if only I was bulemic or ultra thin with long lean legs and large breasts. If only I had Broadway theatre credits instead of off-Broadway credits. If only I had a better agent. If only I had an amazing manager and publicist. If only someone would take me under their wing and help me have the career I’d always dreamed of. If only was making me really tired.

Taking Control of Finances

No one teaches you about credit card debt in high school. You’re given one of those little plastic cards when you leave home, and voila! It’s magic. You can have whatever you want. 



I am completely over being a slave to debt. I am completely over having to pay for things that I don’t use anymore and don’t wear anymore. 

I got out of credit card debt years ago by paying off one high-interest card after another. Now, I only allow myself to buy things that can be paid off in full when I get my statement at the end of the month. If I can’t afford it, I can’t have it.

Getting out of debt has freed me to be more of who I really am. Relieving myself of money worries removed the burden of stress that weighed so heavily. It’s also given me more time and energy to do the things I really want to do. My mind has space to generate new ideas. I feel free, and it's so empowering!

Soaring Free

Today I long to be a bird.

Free in an infinite world.

Jealousy

Jealousy

Jealousy, you’re a big ripe blueberry that I squash under my foot. I stomp on you with my boot, until your skin stains the sidewalk and I’m sure there’s nothing left of you. You’re smooshed into the ground, dead and gone, food for a possum.

Jealousy, you’re an overripe red tomato that I throw against the brick wall. I hurl you with all my might, until you’re splattered against the building, a bloody mess for all to see.

Jealousy, you’re a rotten peach, a rancid avocado, a bruised apple, a brown banana, a moldy orange, a shriveled strawberry, a bitter lemon, a hardened lime. You're a maggot infested fruit bowl. I don’t want anything to do with you. You’re old. You reek. You’re no good to me anymore.

Jealousy, go away. Don’t come back. I can’t stand your pettiness. I can’t handle your games. I won’t be a part of your shenanigans. You’re up to no good. You’re a waste of my time. I won’t let you take over my life.