Just keep throwing pennies, Debbie!

When I was young [8-years-old maybe], living in Winchester, Indiana, I discovered Gypsy Rose Lee. Because of the reference to her in my bio, and the post titled Girls Gone Wild, I get hits on this blog from Google Search, where the subject is "girls gone wild", "gypsy girls gone wild", "wild gypsy girls", etc. Understandably, the people who stumble on this site are disappointed. Sorry boys.

The Discovery
I was watching TV with my friend Debbie M. in the early 1970s. We found an old movie that seemed to be about a girl who sang, danced, removed a few articles of clothing [looked like she was trying to get more comfortable—made sense], and people threw money at her. The movie was Gypsy and we didn't catch the entire show, but enough to be able to sing "Let Me Entertain You", and know that stripping was in our future. The word "strip" was benign to us.

The Record
Not too long after discovering our future job as burlesque dancers, something we thought was respectable and easy, Debbie and I were riding our banana seat bicycles around the Gaslight Addition where we lived. We found a garage sale. Several 45 rpm records were on a long table. One of those 45s had "The Stripper" on one side—an incredible jazz instrumental that you would recognize immediately if you heard—and the other side had "Let Me Entertain You". We. Were.Thrilled.

The Bit
We began our practice sessions at Debbie's house. I had a large glass jug filled with pennies. I gathered as many articles of clothing as I could fit in a grocery sack, wearing several layers on my body, and drug my penny jug, record player and the new 45 to Debbie's house. We set up our stage in her garage and got dressed. First a few bathing suits, then shorts, shirts, pants, more shirts, sweaters, winter coats, hats, scarves, gloves AND mittens. We figured the longer it took us to strip, the more money we'd make. Deductive reasoning: remove clothing while singing and dancing = money thrown at you.  Worked for Gypsy Rose Lee. Sometimes it took four playings of one song to get down to the final bathing suit, which was always left on. "Just play it again, Debbie! Keep throwing pennies!", I shouted. We were gonna be rich some day.

We took turns being the stripper, then the record manager/penny thrower. Eventually word spread in the neighborhood that Debbie and I were stripping [we still weren't sure what the big deal was] and some of the little boys gathered in the driveway. The garage door was shut but there were windows along the top. The boys jumped and lifted each other to see. Debbie's mother taped newspaper over the windows so we could practice without disruption.

The Day the Music Died
I'm not sure when our stripping fizzled. Some days it was too hot to practice—wearing ALL those clothes while singing and dancing, then trying to remove them gracefully. It was tougher than we thought. I was bossy. "Debbie, you're doing it wrong. Go slower. You're just takin' things off and throwin' 'em down. That's not how Gypsy Rose Lee does it! No more pennies for you until you do it right!" Debbie quit.

Neither Debbie's mother, nor mine clued us in on the fact that we were doing something provocative. They continued to help us find private places to practice—always ready to tape the newspaper over windows when an audience surfaced.

Today
I haven't spoken to Debbie M. in at least 30 years. I have never stripped...for money. As I got older, I researched Gypsy Rose Lee. Neat gal.

Apologies again to the boys who've stumbled onto THIS post via a Google Search. My hunch is you haven't made it to the end of my story...

Toss a penny if you're entertained...

Oh no you di'nt!

I received an email from a friend of mine a few days ago. A woman I've known since 1985. Her name is Wendy, but I call her Em—sometimes Emmy Lou—always have. I was a huge Madonna fan in the 80s, and when I met Em, I chose the nickname mostly because I'd read it was Madonna's nickname, too.

Em was diagnosed two years ago with ovarian cancer. I won't go into detail, but she's doing well. We're all so thankful. We keep talking about meeting in Vegas for a Laverne and Shirley weekend. She's fine. [Note to Em: Click on the link—the highlighted words, Honey. You'll like it.]

The email from Em had "Cancer" as the subject. It wasn't a forwarded email, and it was from her to me; didn't appear to be sent to a group. No mistake. My adrenalin surged. Had her cancer returned? Was she not feeling well? Was she scared? I almost couldn't open it.

Here's what it said:

Just forwarding to friends and family members who won’t take this too seriously and of course no big deal if you don’t forward.

It went on to talk about some Criss Angel bit that had to do with your zodiac sign. You were supposed to put your sign in the subject line, then forward to various numbers of people for different levels of luck. Em was born in July. She's a Cancer. Hardy har har.

I emailed back:

Emmy Lou! I canNOT believe you sent me an email with the word "cancer" in the subject line. My heart almost beat out of my chest as I opened it. Don't EVER do that again! With your history. Man!

XO,
Chrisy

Em replied:

I am so sorry.  I did not even think about it.  Can’t wait to hear about your vacation.

Luv ya 

And I'm sure she really didn't even think about it. Which is actually a beautiful thing.

Top Five Quotes on THIS Day (I reserve the right to change my mind at any time, on any day.)

Number 5

"Boys should abstain from all use of wine until after their eighteenth year, for it is wrong to add fire to fire." - Plato 

Number 4

"Should I buy more stuff or leave more money to the kids?  Ha!  I crack myself up!" - Shoebox greeting card received from my good pal Posh Deeva on my 42nd birthday.

Number 3

"It does not matter much whom we live with in this world, but it matters a great deal whom we dream of."  - Willa Cather, Youth and the Bright Medusa, "A Gold Slipper" (1920) 

Number 2

"Writing ought either to be the manufacture of stories for which there is a market demand — a business as safe and commendable as making soap or breakfast foods — or it should be an art, which is always a search for something for which there is no market demand, something new and untried, where the values are intrinsic and have nothing to do with standardized values."  - Willa Cather, "On the Art of Fiction" (1920)

AND...  Number 1

"Je n'ai fait celle-ci plus longue que parce que je n'ai pas eu le loisir de la faire plus courte." - Blaise Pascal (BTW, that's French which I cannot read, speak or pronounce - Posh Deeva will be able to read it just fine.)

• Literally: I made this [letter] very long, because I did not have the leisure to make it shorter.
• Translation: I would have written a shorter letter, but I did not have the time.

This quote is a favorite of many writers (not that I'm a writer) and is actually one that is mistakenly credited to Mark Twain.  His version goes something like this, "I'm sorry this letter is so long, but I did not have time to make it shorter."  Chris and I frequently condense it to, "I didn't have time to make this short."

The end.  Bye.