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I am a stutterer.<\/p>\n
Like an alcoholic, the admission of stuttering is the definition of the condition. When I was a boy I lived in fear of speaking. I stuttered, albeit not severely but still I stuttered. There are many theories as to why one stutters – physical, emotional, traumatic and there are many treatments but none conclusive.<\/p>\n
My first memory of stuttering is in the second grade at St. Thomas Aquinas School in Brooklyn when Sister Rose called my mother in to tell her of my problem. I had no idea I had one and in a very typical way, the naming of the problem made it a bigger problem! Now everyone would be watching and listening to everything I said, including me which of course, made it worst. Sister Rose offered no solutions but my mother did: “You should go out and play more instead staying inside listening to your stupid records over and over again”, “think before you speak”, \u201cEnunciate\u201d and the big one – “slow down!\u201d\u00a0 I still that get one!<\/p>\n
I could deduce that my speech impediment was caused by family unrest and soap opera drama. Who knows or is it just genetic? I noticed a British patrician stammer pattern on my mother\u2019s side of the family but we were not to the manor born. \u201cThe rain in Spain stays mainly on the plain.\u201d\u00a0 I never got it \u2026
\nHowever, stuttering or not, I was the class clown, making wiseass comments from my strategically placed desk in the back of the classroom. Eventually my teacher would find me out and would punish me by making me stand in the front corner of the classroom facing the wall with a very colorful dunce cap on my head. Little did Sister Mary Joseph know that she had put me in the limelight, on center stage in costume to try out my wisecracks to a captive audience. All I needed was bells to be the class court jester like Danny Kaye n the movie. This was a role I could play and not be me.<\/p>\n
I was desperate for attention from anyone, no matter the\u00a0inappropriate situation. And it isn\u2019t it ironic that I used language as my method. You may not know this, but usually stuttering disappears when a person sings or acts. There are many famous celebrities who stutter: James Earl Jones, Marilyn Monroe, Mel Tillis and Carly Simon.<\/p>\n
Also we stutterers are clever people: we develop many tricks to hide our torture to get around full guttural stops. We learn esoteric words (see my above use of albeit) or we use synonyms \u201cJudy Garland at Carnegie Hall was fa-fa-fa-fantastic\u201d, when I meant to say fabulous. Fantastic works as a substitution but if you know Judy you know she was fa-fa-fa-bulous! Syntax comes in handy too so we can twist the sentence around in myriad ways. My studying of Latin came in handy \u2013 omnia vincet amor<\/em> \u2013 \u201cAll conquers love\u201d. So there I was on a cold Sunday afternoon, standing on the stage at Gallo Hall in the basement of Sacred Heart School. Out in the dark were friends and family and another hundred people. I nodded to Mrs. O\u2019Brien to start. I was petrified and I sang standing very still, \u201cShine on, Shine on Harvest Moon up in the sky. I Ain\u2019t had no loving since January, February, June or July.\u201d<\/p>\n I got through the first part when I saw my mother\u2019s face in the audience. I thought she was gonna run down the center aisle yelling \u201csing out Louise!\u201d\u00a0\u00a0 So I finished up with more bravado. Polite applause. Not my mother screaming out \u201cthat’s my boy, that\u2019s my little Anthony,\u201d like from the last scene in The Music Man<\/em>.\u00a0 I bowed and quickly went off stage till the conclusion of the talent show. At the end, there was a grand bow of all the performers including my friend Peter who had played \u201cLady of Spain\u201d on his accordion; Shaking it at the end to great applause.\u00a0 He won! (The bitch) No one got that I did not stutter<\/strong>.<\/p>\n I am a stutterer.<\/p>\n However on the next day, Monday morning back at school I decided to treat myself to lunch with the quarter that my father gave me when I got home from the talent show. He couldn’t go because of his Parkinson\u2019s but he asked me all about it.<\/p>\n During lunch hour, I went next door to the little Italian deli that was popular with all of us school kids. I ordered a small meatball hero.\u00a0 I slid my quarter into the nice\u00a0Italian lady, Mrs. Costanzo\u2019s hand. She reached out over the counter, grasped my hand in hers and looked right into my eyes smiling saying to me, \u201cBaby you sang so nice yesterday”. She then reached backed to Mr. Costanza and handed me the larger 35 cents sub. \u201cShine on, Anthony, shine on!\u201d Holding back my tears, I barely got out, \u201cOh thank you so much Mrs. Costanza, oh thank you so much.” … I didn\u2019t stutter. She called me \u201cShine On\u201d till I graduated three years later.<\/p>\n So thus began my life journey in the arts to find a voice, to find a love and not to be known as the stuttering Porky Pig but maybe the sexy actor, Sal Mineo or the dynamic and articulate director Elia Kazan.<\/p>\n But\u00a0 back then who would have known there was a secret entrepreneur inside me that with the help of all you and especially Gary that I am now here speaking in front of you today, somewhat fluent, still not slow but feeling very successful and loved. \u201cThe rain in Spain, stays mainly on the plain.\u201d I think I finally got it!<\/p>\n But what I actually didn\u2019t\u2019\u00a0get until I wrote this story was hat Mrs. Costanza for all that time wasn\u2019t calling me Shine On<\/em>.\u00a0 She was telling me\u00a0 to \u201cShine On!\u201d “Shine On!’<\/p>\n So I\u00a0 think it\u2019s time after fifty eight years, it\u2019s time to \u201cShine On\u201d and sing \u201cShine on Harvest\u00a0 Moon\u201d again in front of my family.<\/p>\n But I ain\u2019t doing it alone!<\/strong> So please help me out and sing along with Tony.\u00a0 Somewhere Mrs. Costanza shines on and Mom, \u00a0we\u2019re singing,” For Me and My Gal” too.<\/p>\n Sing along with Tony:<\/p>\n Oh, Shine on, shine on, harvest moon<\/p>\n Up in the sky;<\/p>\n I ain’t had no lovin’<\/p>\n Since January, February, June or July.<\/p>\n Snow time ain’t no time to stay<\/p>\n Outdoors and spoon;<\/p>\n Shine on, shine on, harvest moon,<\/p>\n or me and my gal.<\/p>\n The bells are ringing for me and my gal Everybody’s been knowing to a wedding they’re going They’re congregating for me and my gal And sometime I’m goin’ to build a little home for two \n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I am a stutterer. Like an alcoholic, the admission of stuttering is the definition of the condition. When I was a boy I lived in fear of speaking. I stuttered, albeit not severely but still I stuttered. There are many … Continue reading
\nIn 1958 we moved to Newburgh, New York where I attended Sacred Heart Parochial School. Still stuttering, I decided in the fifth grade to enter the parish talent show to show everyone that when I sang, I didn\u2019t stammer. I picked \u201cShine on Harvest Moon\u201d to sing because I loved the song on my \u201cSing along with Mitch\u201d album that I played over and over. On the day before I asked and rehearsed with the church organist, Mrs. O\u2019Brien who accompanied me on an old upright no-so-in-tune piano.<\/p>\n
\nThe two people I wanted to impress the most were in the audience; my mother and my teacher, Sister Mary Joseph. I ran down the center stage three little steps to my mother. \u201cHow\u2019d I do ma?\u201d How did I do?\u201d \u201cAnthony, it was nice. But you just stood there, like a clump and why didn\u2019t you sing, \u201cFor Me and My Gal\u201d like on the Mitch Miller album that you play over and over?\u201d\u00a0 \u201cThanks ma.\u201d I looked all over for Sister Mary Joseph but she already left. I waited till class on Monday to get a response\u00a0but she said nothing.<\/p>\n
\nThe birds are singing for me and my gal<\/p>\n
\nAnd for weeks they’ve been sewing, every Susie and Sal<\/p>\n
\nThe Parson’s waiting for me and my gal<\/p>\n
\nFor three or four or more
\nIn Loveland for me and my gal<\/p>\n