Laughing Through Pain

Guest Post - James Lacerenza

It was always my dream to meet Jerry Lewis.  Over the last 20 or so years of my 25 years of being on Earth, I was the kid who stayed up and watched all 21 and a half hours of Jerry’s annual telethon for muscular dystrophy, before I even realized what the show was for, why it was on my television, and just who was hosting it.

As I grew, I learned about Jerry’s partnership with Dean Martin, I watched some of his movies (“Disorderly Orderly” is my favorite); I knew of his successes and failures, his fans and detractors.  However, I never ever dreamed I would really meet him, despite multiple people, actually at least 100 people, probably hundreds more, saying things like, “I hope you meet him”, or “you deserve to meet him”, or “that would be so awesome if you met him” over the course of the last decade.  I believed I would meet him, I just didn’t know how or when.

So, when it was announced that my idol (or as I called him, “God”) was celebrating his 86th birthday (March 16, 2012) the day before my 25th one (March 17, 2012), my dad and I resolved to go, and I vowed to at least be in the same room as my inspiration.

I should explain that despite living with cerebral palsy, I not only watched Jerry’s telethon for muscular dystrophy until Jerry’s sudden, unexpected “goodbye” in 2010, I actively participated it, first as a volunteer in my hometown, then as a presenter who turned in to a local host on the 2008 New York City broadcast.  In the process, I’ve raised well over one hundred thousand dollars for kids with muscular dystrophy to go to Muscular Dystrophy Association (MDA) camp in Spring Valley, New York and I’ve added a second camp site, Jett Foundation’s Camp Promise East as well.  So, I felt it was my duty to show my loyalty to Jerry.

The celebration was actually split into two parts, one half was for the public in the form of a lecture and Q&A session at the 92nd Street YMCA in Manhattan, the other was a semi-private party at the hallowed Friar’s Club also in Manhattan.

Leading up to the show, I had been having a rough stretch of days in my life but tried my best not to complain, publicly or otherwise, though it was hard.  While my birthday was mere hours before Jerry’s, I lost my mom a week after my 19th birthday in 2006, so my emotions were somewhat jumbled.  Add in a job search that seemed to be stuck in “neutral” and “cabin fever” from being told I wouldn’t be able to drive (yet – I depend on my dad to drive me around for now), and I knew I was in desperate need of pulling out the one universal weapon that both Jerry and I (but especially Jerry) were really good at using in times of stress and trouble: laughter.

After a lengthy discussion with Richard Belzer (Law and Order, all 98 versions) on Jerry’s movies and other things, including Jerry claiming he didn’t retire, he was fired from the telethon by MDA (Jerry’s claim, not mine, here’s a link to where he said it!), the time for questions from the audience came.  (It was so hot in the auditorium, I actually got nervous and had to regroup with a drink of water and watch most of the show in an air conditioned room next to the auditorium.)

My father was worried I wouldn’t have a good question, since Jerry told the audience that we didn’t need to tell him how much we loved him – some people did, and got a playful, sometimes annoyed Jerry to deal with, yet, to be fair, all of us there that night were used to “angry Jerry”, having seen much of his body of work.

When I rolled down to the stage, a grin began to form on Jerry’s face as if I was a ray of sunshine peaking through the clouds of people saying “I love you!” that was giving him a headache.

Loud enough for everyone to hear, he and I spoke.

“Hi Jerry!”, I said, not loudly, but louder than most of the others in the audience had been.

Jerry replied: “Hi, could you speak a little softer?”

I whispered, “okay”, and there was that sound I was looking for – LAUGHTER. I knew I had the audience’s attention now.

“Jerry, I don’t want to tell you I love you because you know that already, but my name is James Lacerenza, I have cerebral palsy and I’ve sent about 50 to 100 of your “kids” to camp.  I just want you to know you’re my hero.”

The audience, without me asking, broke into applause for about 15 seconds, probably a bit longer.

“James”, Jerry said, “I remember you, yes. I know all about what you’ve done.  Are you Italian?”

Of course, I said, “yes!”

Jerry uttered: “I can smell the garlic breath from here!”

A wave of laughter came from everyone, including me.

Jerry continued: “What’s your question, sweetheart?”

I replied: “I wanted to know what advice you had for me raising more money for the kids, and if you could give me a hug after the show.”

Then, the words I never thought I’d hear came from Jerry: “I’ll meet you backstage after the show to do exactly that.”

More applause followed, and my body and brain felt a mix of emotions: shock, happiness, nervousness, excitement, bliss, being extremely grateful and fortunate, all rolled into one.  I also silently thanked my mother.  I knew she had planned this somewhere in heaven.

A half hour later, after patiently waiting for the end of the show, in the dual basement and garbage room of the YMCA, the elevator door rolled open, and here came Jerry BLEEPING Lewis.

We shook hands as Jerry said, “I was looking for you!  Where’d you go!”

I shot back: “Well, your crew made me hard to find, which isn’t easy most days.” A grin came over his face as he leaned in towards me and I grew serious in tone.

“So, what advice would you give me to raise money?  I don’t want to be Jerry Lewis, I want to be James Lacerenza, but carry some of your compassion.”

“Well, that’s a good start, you have to be you and you also have to trust your gut”, Jerry chimed back.

“I want to just be a tenth as good as you at helping people.  What else would you recommend?”, I asked.
 
“Don’t let anyone or anything negatively influence you.  Try to surround yourself with positive people and thoughts and good things will happen.  They already have!”, he exclaimed, referring to my previous years of work.

Jerry had to catch a bus to the Friars for his birthday dinner, but not before a hug, a kiss on the forehead, and one other request.

“Jerry”, I said, giddy with happiness – could we yell “HEY LADY” together?

And there it was, me and Jerry, smiling, laughing, and in a whiny, high pitched voice that we both knew how to do from all of his movies….there goes that “LAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY-DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

“Remember what I said”, Lewis intoned as he gazed into my soul and I gazed back into his: “TRUST YOUR GUT and you’ll go far.”

From that moment on, my spirit, and for that matter, my stomach and all of its intestines, have never felt stronger.

You Only Live Once

Guest Post - Haylee Prowse

Go ahead, text him first – he might be checking his phone, waiting for you.

Stare into the eyes of the guy you like – memorize the color.

Turn on your iPod and run as far as you can.

Say hi to a stranger – you never know what they’ll become for you.

Have a mental health day – you know you need it.

Don’t go on facebook for a day and see what you can accomplish.

Give money to a charity, call an old friend, your good karma will come around eventually.

Sneak out, you might get caught, but it’ll be 100% worth it.

Tell that one person that you like them, what’s the worst that can happen?

He doesn’t like you back? Then he doesn’t deserve you anyways, right?

Treat yourself to something indulgent, you deserve it.

Smile at a stranger, it could make their day.

Wink, it’s sexy and makes you feel confident. After all, you are pretty hot.

Go for somebody who is totally wrong for you, they may not be totally wrong after all.

Stand up for yourself, because if you don’t, who will?

Moral of the story is, YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE!