It started when I was ten, it being my showbiz career, which began at Camp Mataponi in Naples, Maine in 1961, when I was plucked from the obscurity of Bunk Three and onto the stage as a rare junior in the Senior BIg Show. Remember little Ronnie Howard as the lisping Winthrop in The Music Man? That was me singing Gary, Indiana to my fellow Mataponiers as well as the Takajo boys from our brother camp. My strongest memory of the night: one older girl told me I’d made her cry at the end.

.

I took my camp-honed acting skills to the stage of Nathan Bishop Junior High, where I was cast as the female lead opposite John Hirsch, who played my brother in “Wildcat Willy’s Lucky Number.” No hanky-pinky in this production, in 1964, in Providence, Rhode Island. I remember nothing of the plot (John?) but I’m sure it was as wholesome and inane as could be.

By now, I’d figured out that the reason I kept getting cast was my voice. Oh, no dulcet tones from this gal. What I had to offer these productions was decibels. I was loud. Very.(One of my bunk mates put a sign above my bed that said “Andi, modulate!)

A mini Ethel Merman, that was me.

My acting career peaked when I was cast as Annie Oakley in Annie Get Your Gun, the role made famous by the aforementioned Ms. Merman. Irving Berlin’s music is divine. The plot? Let’s just say one of the few lines I remember is this, spoken by Annie regarding her designs on Frank, her love interest and shooting contest rival:

“Win contest, lose Frank. Lose contest, win Frank.” I paused to let that choice sink in for my adolescent audience. I nodded, then announced. “Lose contest.” She/I didn’t seem to have a problem with this. I wonder if this musical is ever staged anymore. And if so, how did they deal with this most retrograde of themes.

I still got cast in camp and school plays but I didn’t pursue screen or stage after high school. We all have regrets and not at least trying during college and beyond is one of mine.

What I did pursue as an adult was a career as a professional fundraiser. In that capacity, besides working directly with donors, I organized events, wrote funding proposals, and researched supporters, speakers, and vendors. I worked in that field for more than 40 years.

Over the past few decades I’ve also penned a few novels, including a romance co-written with a friend amid much hilarity. ( And there’s yet another novel sitting in a drawer if you know any literary agents.)

And here we are today, in a place where I must use the Yiddish term bashert, meaning “meant to be.” My writing, the events I organized, and my research skills have converged in what feels like the inevitability of my blog, my podcast, and this new adventure which will be revealed momentarily.

Yep, I was born to do this job; everything in my life was headed towards this moment.

Drum roll please. I have been invited by a casting agent who discovered me through this very blog to submit a video application to appear in a public service announcement (PSA) having to do with Parkinson’s. The filming is to take place next week in Toronto, or, as we in the business call it, Hollywood North.

A friend who has worked in media and knows his way around a camera shot my audition reel yesterday. Another insisted she be in charge of hair and makeup. She also provided the setting – her front porch – and held the cue cards. My wardrobe mistresses weighed in remotely.

Ordinarily I’d ask you to tell me “break a leg”, but I think that would be a cruel thing to say to a person with Parkinson’s.

The two-minute audition video and my fate are now in the hands of a casting agency. And, like the young ingenue I might have been had I been gutsy enough to pursue an acting career, I nervously await my fate.

Watch this space.