I still remember some of the oddball things I used to think about while growing up; one of them being the day I was born. I always liked to brag about which celebrities shared the same birthday as me (October 5th).
Among the lucky ones were Larry Fine (The Three Stooges), Michael Andretti (the Indy Car driver) and Brian Johnson (lead vocalist for the band AC/DC). It was as if somehow, me coming into this world on the same day as these icons put me on an different level of cool.
But, the bragging rights I had for my actual birthday couldn’t compare to what I could shout from the rooftops about the year I was born. It was 1969 and I was roughly seventy-five days away from entering this world when Neil Armstrong first stepped foot on the lunar surface and said:
That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.
I’ll never forget the day I discovered that the first man to ever walk on the moon did so in the same year as my birth. For not only was it cool to be born in the same year as that monumental event, but it also made the date easy to remember on high school exams. If I ever needed to know in a pinch just how many years ago it took place, all I had to do was think about how old I was.
Neil Armstrong was a test pilot, an aerospace engineer, a university professor and a United States Naval Aviator. Those achievements alone are enough to inspire everyone, both and old, to reach for their dreams. But there will always be that one thing that Mr. Armstrong did during his lifetime that was the ultimate in cool.
Neil Armstrong was the first person to do something that no one else has ever done in the history of planet Earth. The same moon that Jesus and his Disciples taught under, the celestial body that Shakespeare wrote Sonnets to, the glowing orb that generations of lovers still hold hands and kiss beneath… Neil Armstrong was the first person there.
Now, think about it being near the end of your life and while you’re lying on your death-bed someone comes up and asks you what it was you did with it. What if you could look them in the eye and say, “I walked on the moon!”.
Twenty-Five years ago today I officially began adult life by starting college at Penn State Allentown. This was the first time I had ever gone to “school” without the comfort of seeing familiar faces and teachers. Everything was new to me, but I was also excited about the possibilities. Fortunately, I kept a semi-regular journal about my experiences, including one about this monumental day.
As I read this entry again, a few things strike me as funny. First of all, the mindset I had at the time. I was already making plans with what I was going to do with the LOAN money I was going to receive. You see, I had big plans for those funds; the least of which was actually using them to pay for school expenses.
Funnier still, I wasn’t concerned at all about the obligation I had to pay it back. The way I figured it, that was somewhere “down the road” and by the time I got there well, not only would I have a degree in music, but I’d also be a rock star millionaire.
In my post high school world: Rock and Roll Stardom was the only goal. How I got there didn’t matter and the rest either I (or someone the record company hired for me) would have to figure out later.
August 26th, 1987 was also the very first time I began to realize that I was out on my own. Not only had I received a high school diploma a few months earlier, but I also received my independence from such things as curfews and attending classes.
There would no longer be Mom and Dad to drive me around or write excuse notes for me when I was “sick” anymore. Sink or swim, everything was all on me now.
Here is the entry I wrote in my diary on this day, twenty-five years ago.
August 26th, 1987 – Dear Diary: Today is the first day of Penn State. All I have left is Poetry and I’m off for home. To bring you up to date, here’s what’s been happening:
1. I’m a Freshman in college.
2. I think there is a loan coming by which I’m moving to Allentown, buying a piano, taking lessons, getting a job up there and a pet cat.
It’s weird being in college. I mean, I don’t have to go to any class if I don’t want to and don’t even have to call off sick. If I don’t feel like going, I just don’t go. Yes, I could flunk, but now the responsibility is mine. There is no band yet, but I’m trying.
I remember when Jim Henson died back in 1990 it didn’t really affect me. I was, after all twenty years old and having just recently left the confines of public school; eagerly looking forward to getting my “You can now purchase alcohol legally” card.
I was roughly nine years removed from the days of regularly watching Kermit the Frog and Ernie (who was always my favorite Muppet). So, although still tragic, I saw Henson’s untimely passing as something much too childish to think about.
Fast forward 22 years.
Jerry Nelson, another famous Muppeteer, passed away on August 23rd at the age of 78. Although having lived nearly three decades longer than Henson, his death has affected me more. I look at the list of characters he has portrayed over the course of his career; many of whom were a regular part of my life growing up in the 1970’s. Among them:
The Count and Jerry Nelson
The Count: my second favorite Sesame Street character, next to Ernie of course. I loved him. Herry Monster: The one monster that ALWAYS scared me. Must have been that he always looked angry and had that big nose. Sherlock Hemlock: The greatest detective. The Amazing Mumford: Ala peanut butter sandwiches. Mr Johnson: The bald, blue-headed Muppet who always ate at the restaurant Grover worked at. Floyd Pepper: the bass player for the band Electric Mayhem on The Muppet Show.
But perhaps the most sentimental Jerry Nelson character for me was Emmet Otter from the Jug Band Christmas story that played every December on HBO. A story that I will always remember sitting next to my grandmother and watching every year.
Funny, I can still hear her yelling to me from downstairs, and it always sounded like the house was on fire by the tone in her voice:
Emmet Otter and Jerry Nelson
JIMMY!!! HURRY UP AND GET DOWN HERE – EMMET OTTER IS ON!!
Perhaps it’s because I’m now a middle-aged man that I’m starting to become acutely aware of the fact that every day more and more parts of my childhood die. And even though I’ve never met Jerry, it’s hard not to look back at his passing without a sense of sadness. For in many ways, much like The Count and The Amazing Mumford, he was a part of my family.
My grandmother has been gone for 16 years now. Whenever I think about her, the first thing I think about are those cold days in December when Emmet Otter’s Jug Band Christmas came on. And now, I’ll think about Jerry Nelson too.
Godspeed Mr. Nelson. Your work will not soon be forgotten; at least not by this 42-year-old kid.
I’ve decided to venti a little bit about what’s going on at my local Starbucks. It’s starting to drive me crazy and I’m beginning to think that there’s some sort of grande conspiracy to make it that way. I swear, only in americano can a company get away with such silliness.
Consider this: I go into my local Starbucks every morning around 5:30 am. I am one of the first customers of the day so when I go in, there is usually no one else around and I’m able to go right to the register and order my usual.
After handing the Barista my Starbucks Gold Card (still not sure why I have to call the person who pours me plain old Gold Coast coffee a “Barista”), I spend the next fifteen seconds or so watching them pushing buttons in a futile attempt to log onto their cash register.
I swear, there is more security to get into a Starbucks cash register than there is to crack the code at the Federal Reserve Bank. Every time you place an order, they have to enter a 22 digit combination just to get the damn thing to open. I think part of the new employee orientation must include having to memorize the line: “Sorry, it’s a little slow this morning”. Ya think?
Then there’s the little issue with the vanilla powder. For those not familiar with it, vanilla powder is one of the many items you can use to decorate your coffee with (nutmeg, cinnamon and chocolate are also additives you can use). I prefer to use the vanilla because, (using coffee vernacular) it makes it taste smoother. The problem is, 99% of the time I go to reach for it, the container is EMPTY.
Now, wouldn’t you think that since this product is being used so often, it just MIGHT be popular and they’d have a latte of it?
Don’t get me wrong though, my addiction to a good cup of Joe espresso-ly forbids me from going a day without, so I’ll suffer through.
Besides, there’s no way I’m going to settle for the coffee at work.
I have to admit, back in “the day” I kind of looked forward to the first day of school. Sure, it was the end of summer, but it was also the time for a fresh start and new beginnings. A chance to see many of the people I hadn’t seen in a long, long time (hey, two months is a lifetime to a kid).
But this coming school year is extra special. For this year marks the first year that I was officially out of K-12 program and began “college life”. Looking back on it now and thinking about the feelings I had at that point in my life is surreal to say the least.
I’m sure some of my fellow classmates will probably tell you that at this point they already had their post high school lives planned out to the finest detail. Everything from which college they were going to attend to what fraternity or sorority they would pledge.
But me? Well, I hadn’t even had given a thought about it. I was more concerned about when my grandmother was going to make her famous sausage casserole for dinner again.
Yes sir, frequent readers of this blog are already well aware of my procrastination and laziness post high-school. In fact, I didn’t take my SAT tests until the very last-minute, and even then just waddled my way through them. I sure as hell wasn’t going to stress myself about studying. I think that the only thing that I was even the slightest bit concerned about was making sure that I registered with Selective Service before I turned eighteen (does anyone else remember that)? Somehow though, I wound up getting accepted into Penn State.
Looking back now, I really lament not taking it more seriously. I spent the first two months at Penn State Allentown and quickly decided to drop out to become a working musician. The extra money I received from Pell Grants and student loans I used for personal things and not for tuition or books. Heck, I figured I had six months from the time I left school to start paying it back, and by then I’d be RICH; or so I thought.
Over the next several years, I was in an out of bands (and becoming a transient college student) before finally coming to the realization that I had made a mistake and needed to enter the work force. Having now started to find “my place” (and with a steady paycheck), I was eventually able to obtain a post high school degree thirteen years after I had graduated and, in 2005 FINALLY paid off the last of my student loans. Better late than never.
Which leads me to this: next week my little girl will start seventh grade and once again I am left to ask the question, “Where does the time go?”. I know it won’t be long before she’ll be faced with the same uncertainty and stress about what lies ahead for the next phase of her life that most high school graduates face. The feeling of needing to find her place.
I think one day I’ll have to sit her down and tell her my story and why its important for her to forge her own path and take her education seriously. Maybe we’ll discuss it at dinner one night over Nan’s sausage casserole. I think I have the recipe for it somewhere…
Have you ever stopped to consider the importance of Friday? I’m not talking about “the day that comes after Thursday and before Saturday” Friday… No, I mean FRIDAY!!
When you think about it, there’s absolutely no day of the week that’s greater than Friday. Not only does it mean the start of the weekend but just think of all the really important events that always happen on Fridays: Getting your paycheck, checking out new movies that premiere, high school football games. It doesn’t even matter if it happens to be raining out – it’s STILL Friday, and that’s cause for celebration!
For me, tonight (coincidentally, also a Friday) begins a nine-day break from the rigors of work that will also coincide with an excursion to Ocean City, Maryland. See? I told you Fridays were awesome!
But, while Fridays as an adult are pretty cool, they don’t even compare to the Fridays I experienced while growing up. So, in celebration of the final day of the work week, here are the three things I loved the most about Fridays growing up:
3. School’s Out: Ah yes, absolutely nothing compared to being a teenager and Friday rolling around. For, in addition to a two-day reprieve from all of the pressures and drama that go along with being a teen, Fridays typically meant no homework and even more importantly, a chance to stay up late and sleep in on Saturday!
2. The Mall: If it was Friday night, you know a non-essential trip to the Palmer Park Mall was in order. The mall was THE place to be seen; especially on Friday.
My neighbor’s mother would always chauffeur the kids around in this big blue station wagon with the sounds of Survivor’s “Vital Signs”; Night Ranger’s “Midnight Madness” or The Hooters “Nervous Night” albums blaring through the Kenwood stereo. Ah, life was good.
You can read more of one of my favorite Friday memories here.
And the number one thing I loved most about Friday growing up:
1. The Incredible Hulk: The television show that starred Bill Bixby and Lou Ferrigno. I would literally be sitting in class ignoring the teacher while daydreaming of that night’s episode. “Will David Banner cure himself of the Hulk tonight?” I’d ask myself; already knowing that the answer was “No”.
In fact, I was so naive that for the longest time I even believed that Bill Bixby and The Hulk were one and the same. I actually believed Bixby really changed into the Hulk; “hiding” his true muscular physique until necessary. I even remember seeing Lou Ferrigno’s name appear in the opening credits and think: “Who the hell is this guy? I’ve never seen him in any episode.”
Although my siblings seemed to be more interested in watching the Dukes of Hazard on Friday nights (and who could blame them, Daisy Duke was pretty hot) when 8pm rolled around at the Wood household, I laid claim to the 19″ television. At least for the next sixty minutes.
There you have it, the three things I loved most about Friday! Here’s hoping your Friday is just as great! And feel free to comment with your own favorite Friday childhood memories!
Another Sunday morning and here I sit writing a blog when I should be making an itemized order for all the things I really should accomplish today. Sadly, my laziness has always taken precedence over laborious things. And I say “sadly” only because that’s the way my situation may appear to you, the reader. Quite honestly, it’s not really sad to me.
I put in at least 54 hours of work at my regular job each week. On occasion, the hours may go higher with being on-call but, for the sake of this discussion, I’ll just use the average amount of hours.
With putting in so many hours at my nine-to-five (well actually my six-to-four) job, I tend to procrastinate on a lot of my duties at home when the weekend finally arrives. The thing is, work never ends whether it’s at the office or on the home front. But, like most things, I take it in stride.
For instance: yesterday I did the minimal amount of work to get by. I watched four episodes of the show Supernatural I received from NetFlix, made myself dinner and fed the animals. Oh, and I did manage to get dressed, go to the gym for ninety minutes and take a shower. So there were some good things that were accomplished. But as far as household chores go, well let’s just say it started to get dark before I could do any of them.
So, as I sit here typing this entry, here are the following things I’d like to get accomplished today:
Mowing the lawn: It’s becoming a jungle out there. The prerequisite to mowing the lawn includes weed whacking and the clean up of the “things” my dogs leave behind when they go outside. Total Est Time: 2 hours.
Sweeping and mopping of entire downstairs: We’ve got new wood floors and the dust bunnies have been partying hard lately and not using protection. Total Est Time: 90 minutes.
Cleaning the upstairs bathroom:I tend to put this one-off as long as possible too as the smell of Tilex mildew remover is horrendous. Total Est. Time: 1 hour
Cleaning the fish tank: I love my saltwater fish tank but can not stand the algae that accumulates in it. It looks more like a bog in there then a relaxing escape for anyone checking it out. Total Est Time: 1 hour.
Giving the dogs a bath: Maybe this one I can give to my daughter. She loves to torture the dogs with water. Not so much in a menacing way, she just loves being the one to give them a bath. Total Est Time: 30 minutes.
All totaled, there are six hours out of the day that are already gone. Even more importantly, I also need to go to continue working on my book, go to the gym, ride my motorcycle and practice my guitar. Oooh, and let’s not forget lunch. I’ve GOT to have lunch. I’m a firm believer that you simply can’t do anything on an empty stomach.
So it’s going to be a very busy Sunday for me that’s for sure. But this is the price I pay for owning a home and wanting to take pride in it. I’ve been doing it for years with great success. I’m more than up for the challenge.
Uh-oh, someone just challenged me to a game of Words With Friends…. First things first.
Sitting down at my computer early in the morning and drinking a cup of coffee is a ritual that I follow religiously. Browsing my habitual news and entertainment websites each morning not only gives me the chance to catch up on what’s currently going on in the world, but this “alone time” also allows me to reflect on what today’s agenda holds for me.
Today, that agenda includes mowing the lawn, pulling weeds, paying bills and maybe, just maybe if time permits, fixing a loose faucet. You know, grown-up stuff.
But this morning, I can’t seem to get myself focused. The news websites and celebrity gossip just doesn’t interest me at all. Rather, I find myself looking at the dozens of Facebook posts and pictures from yesterday’s 25th high school reunion picnic that I attended.
Yesterday. Wasn’t it just yesterday that we were all sitting in class together? Each of us spending as much time as possible in our own little clicks: the jocks, the cheerleaders, the geniuses, the geeks, the stoners, the in-betweens. (I’ll leave you to figure out which of these clicks fit me)
As I watched the attendees (my classmates) arriving one by one, it was as if time stopped. People I haven’t seen since the days of Pac Man and Members Only jackets seemed to appear out of no where. Although we are all now long since grown, I found myself feeling more youthful than ever just being around them.
Handshakes and hugs weren’t just a means of saying “Hello”. For me, the feeling behind each was much more than that. Imagine losing something that you valued for a quarter of a century and then suddenly finding it again. That’s what each reunion felt like.
“Do you remember the time….” seemed to be the five words that started many conversations.
I could write a novel on all of the wonderful reunions I made personally (and who knows, maybe some day I will), but for now, let’s just say that we talked a lot about yesterday, where our journeys in life have taken us and what our hopes and dreams are for the future. Each of us had something different and interesting to say and the hours quickly flew by.
At one point during the day, the heaven’s opened up and it began to rain steadily; forcing us all under a pavilion. In retrospect, it was probably the best thing that could have happened, because it drew us all closer together. It literally was the perfect day.
Truth be told though, I was a bit worried only about one thing: I figured at some point during a discussion with a classmate, sooner or later, someone was going to say something to me that would hit a nerve and the joyful emotions inside would make me have to walk away somewhere lest I become a quivering mess right in front of them. Not cool. I came pretty close a few times but was able to hold it together and was beginning to think I’d make it through unscathed.
But as daylight turned into dusk, I noticed a girl, well now a woman, sitting at a picnic bench making small talk with her friends. A person who graduated with me and someone I remember mostly not from high school, but rather from attending third grade elementary school together. A school that was subsequently torn down in 1979 and caused many of us to separate and transfer to other schools for a year.
Her name is Beth and we both took clarinet lessons after school thirty-five years ago. She and I had both spent many an afternoon in the school’s basement together with an ornery teacher who berated us every time we played a note incorrectly. It’s funny how all of these years later, that one particular memory still sticks out in my head.
Beth and I were never “friends” in high school. We were more like two people who might have just said “Hey” to each other in passing on our way to biology class; on a good day. I haven’t seen her at all since graduation and, quite honestly was a bit apprehensive about going up to her. (Someday, I swear I will outgrow this shyness). But, the thought of this being my only chance to ask her about clarinet class was all the incentive I needed. I went over, sat down next to her and we immediately reunited. She remembered me and we quickly caught up on what we’ve been up to.
And then it happened…
“Do you remember when we used to have clarinet class together in elementary school?”, I asked.
“Porter School!!”, she replied. “Yes, I do remember being in clarinet class with you! I loved Porter School.”
Now, I don’t know if it was the emotion of the high school reunion finally hitting me, Beth saying the words “Porter School” or the way she talked about the school we both attended and loved when we were 8 years old that triggered it, but something inside of me at that very moment said: “Prepare for waterworks!” and I soon found myself having to tell her that I’d be right back.
I spent the next few minutes alone in the bathroom composing myself. Of all things, talking about a silly clarinet class at a high school reunion triggered it.
I shouldn’t say “silly” because I was actually glad that it happened. I think we all need to feel emotion like that in our lives to remind us that we’re human.
This week will be interesting. In just a few short days, I’ll be attending my 25th high school reunion.
The last time I was in the company of many of these people, the world was a much different place. Back then, it was all about sneaking out of restricted study hall at lunch to head over to the nearby Burger King.
It was a time when the only thing that really mattered was getting through the week so we could all go hang out at the mall on Friday night, drink Orange Julius and play Dragon’s Lair.
For me, it also included choir trips, endless hours of practice on my black Gibson Explorer guitar, the longing for unattainable love and of course, a heavy dose of hair metal. I’m actually tearing up right now just thinking about it; the hair metal part that is.
But, I’m looking back now, a quarter century later and am feeling pretty good about how I turned out. Especially when you consider what my original goal was.
Back then, my dream was almost laughable: In a “lather, rinse, repeat” cycle all I wanted to do was write music, record and tour. Pretty much in that order. If I had to sleep on the floor in some stinky tour bus on the way to Small Town, USA or pan handle on the streets for money to buy guitar strings I didn’t care. Music was going to be my life. I wanted to be the opening act for Bon Jovi; at least just long enough until he became the opening act for me.
It wasn’t until the day I woke up in my college dorm room; a twenty year old man with literally nothing but the black guitar and $1.37 to my name that I had an epiphany. And thus began my entry into the work force.
Don’t get me wrong, over the years I was still able to live the dream: I was part of several bands that achieved great things; even playing in front of crowds of 6,000 people. But, there are times that I still think about what might have happened if I had stuck to my original vision.
If things had worked out as planned well, you all would have seen me on the cover of Rolling Stone at least a few times by now. I probably would have also “guest starred” on Adele’s Grammy winning album and who knows; it might have been me in the judges panel on American Idol instead of that guy from Aerosmith…what’s his name again?
Anyway, as I’m typing this entry, over to my right; still hanging on the wall is that very guitar. The same one I put all those endless hours on. The one that contains all my feelings and the one constant that reminds me continually of those days and that dream. It’s still as great as ever 25 years later. I think we all are too!
I believe things happen for a reason. And I’m looking forward to hearing how everyone else’s dreams turned out at the reunion.
Every so often, fate has a funny way of introducing you to some really amazing people. Such was the case for me when I met Lisa Jey Davis.
Lisa is role model for people who want to live their dreams. After going through a rough divorce, she made the decision to travel to Los Angeles and start a career in the production end of the entertainment industry. Through hard work and perseverance she became talent coordinator on the production crew of The Billboard Bash, a pre-show for the Billboard Music Awards. She hasn’t looked back since.
Today, Lisa owns her own successful public relations firm, Jey Associates Marketing and PR. She’s also an award-winning writer, a fitness instructor and a regular blogger/vlogger, both as herself and as her “alter-ego”, Ms. Cheevious.
As a blogger, she regularly documents and videos the adventures of her life. From the satisfaction of trying out for the Lingerie Football League with girls half her age to having to make a difficult decision when diagnosed with the BRCA 2 genetic mutation; Lisa is truly an inspiration.
Her latest project, a book entitled: Ms. Cheevious In Hollywood – Adventures & Mishaps of an Accidental Hot Mamma promises to be a guilty pleasure for anyone interested in learning what really goes on behind the scenes in Hollywood. It’s also a must-read for women who’ve recently experienced life trauma, such as divorce, and want to regain the confidence and courage to change their lives for the better.
I had the pleasure of speaking with this amazing woman and find out what makes her tick.
goJimmygo (gJg): You are one busy lady. How do you find time to do all this?
LJD: Not sleeping.
Actually, it’s because I love what I do. But I must admit, as I get older I more often find myself thinking, “Hmm, that couch over there is looking kind of nice to sit on”. <laughs>
Lisa and the cast from her “show” and blog: Bear, M.C. Nugget, Fred the Wonder Chicken and Bear.
gJg: Tell me a little bit about your book.
LJD: It’s the story about my post-divorce enlightenment. About jumping into the world with both feet and saying, “It’s my turn to do what I’ve always wanted to do”. For me, it was pursuing a career in the entertainment industry. It’s the story of the whole process from divorce to pursuing the dream and all of the funny things that happened along the way. There will also be some stories about the celebrities I’ve met. It will be fun.
gJg: Tell me a good Ms. Cheevious Story from the book:
LJD: In 2002, I was working for MTV on a show called ICON. Aerosmith was picked as that year’s ICON. What MTV would do was bring other popular artists and bands in to perform the “ICON’s” songs. I remember we had Train performing “Dream On” and Pink did “Janie’s Got A Gun”. The members of Aerosmith were all part of the audience. It was similar to an awards show and my job was to work with the band’s wives and kids – as the kids were participating in one of the numbers.
I remember at one point where there were two guys I had to take somewhere. So I was taking them back to their seats via the front row when all of a sudden everyone stopped. I suddenly realized that I was standing right next to Pink. What I didn’t know was there was also film crew there filming her while she was dancing. So I literally just stood a foot away from Pink and stared at her while all of this was going on.
All of sudden, she realizes that I’m standing there staring at her and she looks at me a little nervously like ‘Who is this crazy girl and why is she staring at me?’
But I swear to you, I am not a Pink stalker. Honest! <laughs>
gJg: Another dream you followed was trying out for The Lingerie Football League. How did that come about?
LJD: When the Saints went to the Superbowl a few years ago, my boyfriend (who is a huge Saints fan) and I bought tickets to Miami. At the time, we didn’t know if we would even be able to get into the game (we didn’t) but we went for the experience and had a great time. While we were there, I was able to get us into the Lingerie Football League’s Superbowl (the eve of Superbowl), as well as the after-party.
Initially, I thought it might have just been girls running around in g-strings but they were actually playing in bra tops, workout shorts and pads, and I loved it! It inspired me. I felt I was in pretty good shape so I thought I would try it. When I found out that they were holding tryouts here in LA the following year, I signed up and it was so much fun.
In 2011, Lisa had to make a very difficult decision when diagnosed with the BRCA 2 genetic mutation.
From her blog: In 2010, my beloved, beautiful sister Mimi lost her battle with Ovarian Cancer. Her illness prompted my gynecologist to begin a personal campaign to get me to the genetic specialists at Cedars Sinai in Los Angeles. And when she passed away, my doc turned up the heat. She REALLY wanted me to be screened for Ovarian / Breast Cancer (they are related) gene mutations. So I succumbed. I went in for the screening, and more to the shock of the genetics counselors than to myself, I tested positive for the BRCA2 Gene Mutation.
There were a few choices available but having already had children and seen what my sister had gone through, I opted for the most aggressive approach to eradicating my elevated risks. I underwent a double prophylactic mastectomy (with breast reconstruction and implants) and at the same time, had them remove my ovaries and tubes.
I am so glad that I connected with Lisa and her “multiple personalities”. She is one of the most fun and inspirational people I’ve ever met. Someday I hope I get to tell her that in person. In the meantime though, here are some of Lisa’s / Ms. Cheevious’s Greatest Hits:
go.Jimmy.go 