You Like Me! You Like Me!

In 1979, Sally Field won an Oscar as Best Actress for "Norma Rae." Five years later in 1984, she won again for "Places in the Heart." This was quite an accomplishment for a woman who had started her career on TV playing such demanding, serious roles as "Gidget" and "The Flying Nun." At the 1985 Academy Awards she delivered what has become one of the more memorable acceptance speeches in recent Oscar history. "I haven't had an orthodox career," she said, "and I've wanted more that anything to have your respect. The first time I didn't feel it, but this time I feel it, and I can't deny the fact that you like me right now, you like me!" The speech is remembered for its goofiness more than anything else; it was reminiscent of a small-town girl gushing over the blue ribbon just won by her prize heifer, Daisy. It wasn't classy. It wasn't "Hollywood". It was just real. And sincere. I've always identified with that speech. When my album "Legacy" was released in 1986, I really didn't care too much about how much it sold. Aren't I a great businessman? I was more concerned with the reaction I'd get from my peers. I wanted to know what other musicians, composers and lyricists thought of my work. I started in the music business as a drummer who was mediocre at best, and a large part of my reason for making "Legacy" was my insecurity about my abilities as a self-taught songwriter who never even learned to read music. I'd been writing lyrics since camp and I always knew I was pretty good at it, but I had never written my own melodies as well. I wanted to be taken seriously by others because in my mind my insecurities didn't allow me to take myself seriously. So: what does this have to do with my recent tribulations? Glad you asked. Apparently when I got sick, word got around. Close friends as well as people I barely knew started crawling out of the woodwork to wish me well. While I was in the ICU breathing through a hole in my neck, depressed enough to occasionally think about why I didn't just pull the damn thing out and simply fade away, I made it clear that I didn't want any visitors outside of my family to come and interrupt my orgy of self-pity. I couldn't make that happen...people showed up anyway. When I couldn't communicate by phone because I hadn't yet been given my Passy-Muir* valve, people called anyway. The Orthodox Jewish community is quite remarkable that way. We tend to share each other's joys but more importantly, we share each other's sorrows and challenges as well. During my stay at Columbia Presbyterian and later at Silver Lake, I learned that people all over Flatbush were reciting Tehillim and Mi Shebairach** for me. For me! Have you any idea how heartening that was? Have you any idea how uplifting? To this day folks come up to me on the street and tell me that they had had me in mind during their prayers. Recently I've been feeling that for someone who's always tended to be somewhat high-profile, I've kind of fallen off the radar of late. Apparently, people still care; you like me! You like me!

* Passy-Muir valve = a small, plastic apparatus that allows trach patients to speak.

** Tehillim and Mi Shebairach = "Tehillim" refers to Psalms,

"Mi Shebairach" is a short prayer for someone who is ill.

The Flying Nun (1967-1970)