Being a survivor doesn’t mean being strong – it’s telling people when you need a meal or a ride, company, whatever. It’s paying attention to heart wisdom, feelings, not living a role, but having a unique, authentic life, having something to contribute, finding time to love and laugh. All these things are qualities of survivors….Bernie Seigel
Good times and bum times, I’ve seen them all, and, my dear, I’m still here. Plush velvet sometimes, sometimes just pretzels and beer, but I’m here. I’ve stuffed the dailies in my shoes, strummed ukuleles, sung the blues. Seen all my dreams disappear, but I’m here.
I’ve slept in shanties, guest of the W.P.A., and I’m here. Danced in my scanties, three bucks a night was the pay, and I’m here. I’ve stood on bread lines with the best, watched while the headlines did the rest. In the depression was I depressed? Nowhere near. I met a big financier, and I’m here.
I’ve been through Gandhi, Windsor and Wally’s affair, and I’m here. Amos ‘n’ Andy, mah-jongg and platinum hair, and I’m here. I got through Abie’s Irish Rose, five Dionne babies, Major Bowes, Had heebie-jeebies for Beebe’s Bathysphere. I got through Shirley Temple, and I’m here
I’ve gotten through Herbert and J. Edgar Hoover; gee, that was fun and a half! When you’ve been through Herbert and J. Edgar Hoover, anything else is a laugh.
I’ve been through Reno, I’ve been through Beverly Hills, and I’m here. Reefers and vino, rest cures, religion and pills, but I’m here. Been called a “pinko-commie tool,” got through it stinko by my pool. I should’ve gone to an acting school, that seems clear. Still, someone said, “She’s sincere,” so I’m here.
Black leather one day, next day it goes into hock, but I’m here. Top billing Monday, Tuesday you’re touring in stock, but I’m here. First you’re another sloe-eyed vamp, then someone’s mother, then you’re camp; then you career from career to career. I’m almost through my memoirs, and I’m here.
I’ve gotten through “Hey, buddy, aren’t you whoozis? Wow, what a looker you coulda been.” Or better yet, “Sorry, I thought you were whoozis; Whatever happened to him?”
Good times and bum times, I’ve seen ’em all, and, my dear, I’m still here. Plush velvet sometimes, sometimes just pretzels and beer, but I’m here. I’ve run the gamut, A to Z; three cheers and, dammit, c’est la vie. I got through all of last year, and I’m here. Lord knows, at least I’ve been there, and I’m here. Look who’s here. I’m still here.