Giving Birth To My Parents

My story about Jerry Lewis and my father at my 16th birthday party is one such example of how a simple gesture can build a lifelong bond. My father’s tender act toward me would be reciprocated many years later when the tables turned and he was in dire need of tenderness from me.

From the time I was ten years old, I loved Jerry Lewis. After I saw him in three movies, The Errand Boy, The Nutty Professor and It’s Only Money, I was hooked.  I loved his smile and how he moved, how he danced, his red cardigan sweater, white socks, loafers, the pinky ring. He made me laugh and I loved his goofy ways. I felt that he gave me permission to be the silly girl I was born to be.
        

 I knew Jerry was married, but I did not care. As a young girl, I wrote him long, long letters telling him how much I loved him, but I couldn't bring myself to send any of the letters. Except one time, I did send a letter, but not one of the epic ones. That one was short and sweet, requesting a signed photograph.

It felt fantastic to receive an envelope in the mail stamped “Hollywood.” It was sitting on the dining room table. The handwriting was cursive and my name was spelled correctly. I’d been sent an autographed photo,  a black and white picture of Jerry seated on a bar stool, with his token red cardigan sweater and black trousers, red socks protruding from the tip of his pant! I loved it! I framed it!    "To Lorrie, Love Jerry Lewis". 

I wrote more unsent letters. By the time I was a teenager the fascination to have Jerry in my life had faded. There were real adorable boys, who captured my attention right in my own neighborhood. But, when it came time for my Sweet Sixteen party I had been thinking a lot about inviting Jerry. I asked my parents if I could send him an invitation and they said, "Why not? Go ahead!"  With my heart pounding I sent a gorgeous invitation that my aunt designed for me, I mailed it long before the date of my party, because I knew Jerry had a busy schedule. He would need time to rearrange his agenda if he was going to attend. Weeks and weeks went by and still I received no response.  My heart sank. I wanted him there! I wanted him to know how much I cared for him.

As time drew closer, I had to come to terms with the fact that Jerry Lewis would not be coming to my party.  I decided, there must be a good reason why he could not attend. Though I recognized I needed to be a grown up about it, it was difficult to erase Jerry Lewis from my heart and mind.

I had a “wishing well” theme for my party. Dad suggested that he build a wishing well for the event so he found an old barrel and crafted it to perfection. I wanted to give my friends parting gifts, which were put into the wishing well. I envisioned them leaning in and choosing whatever they wanted.

The party was on a gorgeous fall day. I was particularly thrilled that the weather was perfect. The party was an afternoon event and it was being held at a very fancy Italian Restaurant.

All the waiters were young, gorgeous and from Italy. The food was a treat, and the owner didn't mind a huge crowd of screaming 16 year old girls taking over the place for the afternoon.  My parents were beaming from the sidelines, and I was having a incredible time. Time came to unwrap my gifts and a waiter wearing sunglasses and a memorable smile, came to me and whispered in my ear, "You have a phone call." I could not imagine who would be on the phone.  Who else would know to call me here?
I went over to the bar and picked up the phone.  "Hello?"
"Hello Lorrie, this is Jerry Lewis."
It was my dad, trying to disguise his voice. I knew, but I still played along.
"Jerry! It's so good to hear from you, I squealed.
 "I wanted to call and wish you a very happy birthday. You are 16 today. That’s a big deal. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to help you celebrate, but I could not rearrange my schedule.”
"That's so sweet of you Jerry.  I wish you could be here too."
 "You have a great birthday Lorrie. And, thank you for your thoughtfulness with the invitation."
 "Oh my God, Jerry, thanks for calling me!!  I do hope to meet you someday! Goodbye!"
I walked back to the table and was immediately surrounded by a crowd of curious girls.  I noticed my father re-enter the restaurant.
"Who was that? Who was that on the phone?" my best friend, Judi Brandow  asked as the other girls crowded in unison.
I winked at my Dad.  He smiled.  I turned to my friends.
 "That was Jerry Lewis, can you believe it? He did get my invitation and 
 he just called me to say Happy Birthday. He called me all the way from the west coast!"

The room exploded.  "No! Oh my God! You're lying--Really? What did he say? You have to tell us every word he said!”  My friends crowded eagerly around me, wanting to hear exactly what had taken place. I lost sight of my father.  I loved him so much for the thoughtfulness he had shown. Boy, did I feel lucky! I noticed Bern standing by the door, watching all of us in our squealed excitement.  He wanted me to feel important and special, to have everything I wanted for that extraordinary day.       

Fond memories often serve as the thinnest thread keeping a child tethered to his or her tenuous, relationship with their mother or father.  If we find the strength and courage to hold on tight, until the healing process is complete, we are often greeted with a resolution that surpasses our inner naysayer, who doubted change could ever occur.  If nutured, the once fragile thread grows as strong and resilient as the umbilical cord that once sustained us.