Just A Kiss Away

This is a (very) condensed version of a short story I wrote several years ago that has since been gathering dust in a folder. It isn't 'War and Peace' by any means, but hopefully will make you smile during your next coffee break...


“Now that’s what I call shaking your bootie!” hollered an elderly woman as she turned to her friend.  “Don’t you just love watching young people dance?” she said, rocking on her seat to the sound of music blaring out of an equally worn-looking television set.

 

“You call that dancing?” countered her companion, pointing at the screen. She gave the tatty, old wig perched on her head a tug and took a lengthy drag on her cigarette before rising from her seat.

“You want to see real dancing, Mary?” she exhaled. “I’ll show you some moves worth getting excited about.”

 

Wedging the cigarette filter between her nicotine-stained teeth, Betty placed her hands on her pink and blue tracksuit pants, bent her legs and began to wriggle her hips. “Itch jusht da warm-up,” she explained through gritted teeth, dropping ash all over the linoleum floor. Her articulations responded to the deep squat with various cracks and pops. Straightening up, she sucked in her abdominals then shuffled forwards, leaning back with her hands on her hips. One-two, shift-shift, three-four, shift-shift, she mouthed to herself, making her cigarette seesaw with every count.

 

Keeping up with the music, Betty swept across the floor like a push broom guided by an invisible hand up to the television set then, rubbing her body against it, she ran her chipped, red nails along its metal frame. Tossing her cigarette to the ground, she extinguished it with the sole of her slipper in a grinding motion that reminded Mary of Olivia Newton-John’s iconic scene in “Grease”. Betty then helped herself to a handful of potpourri from the ornamental glass bowl on top of the TV. Performing a daring high-kick, she threw the potpourri in the air like confetti and finished her routine balancing on one leg flamingo-style, opposite knee bent and both arms stretched toward the ceiling.

 

“Ta-dah!” she exclaimed triumphantly.

“Bravo,” shouted Mary, clapping enthusiastically. “That was fantastic!”

Betty’s wig had worked its way back to front and was now covering her eyes. Head sprinkled with petals, she looked like a rose bush in need of pruning. The sight of her friend sent Mary into a fit of hysterics. Staggering half-blind to the sofa, her wig at a ten-degree angle, Betty flopped down next to Mary and joined in the howls of mirth.

 

A man sporting a uniform and tag that read ‘recreational therapist’ entered the room. “What’s so funny, ladies?” he asked as he approached them.

“We’re watching ‘Dancing with the Stars’,” spluttered Mary. “Who knew it was such a hoot!”

 

Spotting the cigarette butt on the floor amidst the floral confetti, the young man picked it up. He tut-tutted disapprovingly eyeing the burn mark it had left on the linoleum.

“I’ve told you before…use the ashtrays!” he said. “This is a retirement village, not a saloon.” Betty gave Mary a mischievous glance which was enough to send the two of them into another paroxysm of laughter.

 

“That was quite a show,” said Mary, coming up for air. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“I used to be a house dancer…you know, pole dancing and all that,” answered Betty, lighting another cigarette.

 “You…a stripper?” gasped Mary.

“That was years ago. Don’t panic, I’m not about to pop these girls out any time soon!” said Betty, pointing at her chest.

“It’s…it’s not that…it’s just,” stammered Mary, “I couldn’t imagine working in those clubs…the filth and all those sleazy old men!”

“Let me tell you, darl’, things were different back then. We had so much fun...” Betty’s voice trailed off as her mind wandered down memory lane.

 

Just a Kiss Away wasn’t any old contact club. Dancing occurred onstage or on a platform near the tables, out of reach of wandering hands. Costumes had to be approved by the powers-to-be and dancers were scolded for flashing anything south of a smile. Showing genitalia was a no-no and, when breasts were exposed, nipples had to be covered by pasties. If not properly affixed, they would wander during a performance or worse, they would abandon ship and end up on the floor glued to the bottom of someone’s shoe. One memorable night, a dancer’s act brought a patron to his feet, not out of enthusiasm, but because her pasty had worked its way loose and had dropped into the man’s drink.

 

“Gross,” giggled Mary. “Did that ever happen to you?”

“No,” said Betty. “My mishaps were far more spectacular. Like the time I performed an unsolicited lap dance - literally!”

 

Betty was one of the more attractive dancers at Just a Kiss Away. She had a figure to die for and the most beautiful, startling blue eyes. But, without her contact lenses, she was as blind as a bat. This had worked against her several times. One particular night, dressed in a lacey teddy covering a frilly pair of pink panties and a pink feather-decorated bra, Betty had begun her routine as usual. Stripping to one of her favourite songs, she was half way through the act when an urge to cough overwhelmed her and stopped her in her tracks. Wondering why the stage was suddenly a mishmash of indistinct shapes and shadows, the front line of punters a blur of different colours, Betty blinked a few times before realising that one of her contact lenses had fallen out. Working the stage from memory, she strutted forwards, keeping her steps small and contained. As she reached the spot where her first garment was to come off, she slowly pulled the teddy over her head. Blinded by the fabric, Betty lost her balance, misjudged her position and walked straight off the stage and into the arms of a very surprised patron.

 

“Were you injured?” asked Mary in awe, trying to picture the scene.

“Slightly bruised from the fall but not as stunned as the guy whose lap I dropped into!” said Betty with a chesty laugh.

“How I envy you! Performing must be such a rush.” Losing herself in thought, Mary watched the judges on television reveal their scores to a panting and sweaty pair of dancers. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to dance…to perform in public,” she added.

“It’s never too late, Mary.”

“I’m afraid it is for me. What about you…anything left on your bucket list?”

“I’ve always wanted to open my own dance school but a knee injury put an end to that idea.”

Both women returned their attention to the television screen and watched the remainder of the program in silence. As the credits rolled, Betty turned to her friend, grinning from ear to ear. Mary didn’t have to say anything. She knew that mischievous expression all too well.  

 

The recreational room had been transformed into a dance hall. With all the furniture pushed to one side, there was enough room to accommodate everyone. Betty was standing out front facing a crowd four lines deep. The last line had participants who were physically less able to move but still keen to take part in all the excitement. There was even a woman in a wheelchair being taken through her paces by an attentive staff member rolling her backwards and forwards whilst she waved her arms about.

 

“All right, everyone,” said Betty. “Remember, there are only three rehearsals left until talent night and we’ve still got work ahead of us, so, let’s take it again from the top, ready?” She pressed the button on the ghetto blaster and on came the music.

Leading a front line of uncoordinated performers sporting plastic bowler hats, Mary, standing front and center, winked at her best friend as she glided across the room.  

This may not be Juilliard, thought Betty, smiling back at Mary. But I wouldn’t change a thing.

Whenever You're Away From Me

This is a condensed version of a short story I wrote four years ago. It was shelved and never published. In light of the passing of a very special lady this weekend, I thought I'd put it up on the blog to highlight the importance of research into cancer-related illnesses and also to pay tribute to a person who was a talented blogger and loving friend to so many. Rona Newton-John, this is for you...

Rona Newton-John with sister Olivia. Picture: Getty Images

 

Whenever You're Away From Me

 

“…Then we will see you face to face, and in your light we will see light and know the splendour of God, for you live and reign for ever and ever” read the minister from the Rite of Commital book as he blessed the grave. The congregation responded with a simple “Amen” and watched as he proceeded to sprinkle the coffin with holy water and then waved incense above it.

It was a beautiful summer’s day. Diana Shores still couldn’t believe how many people had shown up at Forest Lawn Gardens to pay their respects and show some support. She was pleased to note that everyone had followed her and husband Bill’s wishes. There wasn’t a somber colour in sight. Even her mother had donned a cheerful outfit. The line-up of family members, friends and acquaintances standing by the grave, all brightly dressed, reminded her of the last barbecue she and Bill had hosted in late spring before the disease and subsequent treatment had put an end to their social life.

Diana loved summer. Most of her friends complained about the heat and being dependent on air conditioning to get them through a day’s activities. But to her, hot weather meant taking the kids to the pool, early morning walks along the harbour with her best friend, Tess, summer salads, ice cream, and weekend trips to the beach with the family.

Youngest daughter Jo had just turned seventeen. She loved people, travelling and experiencing different cultures. From early on, Jo had told her parents that she would one day get a job that would allow her to see the world. Perhaps she’d become a journalist. She reminded Diana so much of Bill, not just in the way she enjoyed sports or loved a good laugh. She had a similar mischievous twinkle in her eye and shared her father’s passion for camping. Jo wasn’t by any means a tomboy. She could be quite the little lady at times. But she definitely was Daddy’s girl.

Claire, Jo’s older sister, was more like her mother. An avid reader, she had spent hours as a child losing herself in literature way beyond the maturity of her young years. She was also musically-gifted. Just like Diana, she excelled at playing the piano. As she grew up, Claire became interested in various causes. At first, driven by her innate sense of justice, she had wanted to become a lawyer. Then, in her late teens, that desire had been replaced with a new calling. Claire, now twenty-one, was studying pathology and hoped to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

Bill and Diana were proud of the beautiful young women their two daughters had become. They had always encouraged them to pursue their dreams and follow their hearts, telling them never to compete with anyone but themselves. All they really wanted was for their girls to be happy. “Be true to yourself and you’ll never lose your way!” Bill had often reminded them. He was always so disarming in the way he talked to them; so much warmth and care in his voice.

Diana reflected a while on how much she was going to miss Bill. They had been constant companions since university. He was her best friend, a caring husband, a gentle lover, and a great father to their children. Finding her soulmate and raising a family together with him meant everything to her. She made sure Bill knew that and, shortly before the end, reminded him again how much she loved him and always would. No regrets. As Diana stroked Bill’s hair on that last day, she felt privileged to have shared a full and rewarding life with him, a man whose kind personality had touched so many.

Now, being at the grave with her daughters, Diana could feel the love flowing through the crowd. Everyone had tried to be brave, holding back their tears as inspiring stories were imparted during the service. One or two anecdotes even raised a laugh amongst the attendees. This gathering was after all as much about celebrating life as it was about supporting each other through grief.

Bill had handled breaking the news to his children with utmost dignity, preparing them for the inevitable as best as he could. Although his belief was that one never really got over losing a loved one, he had no doubt that his kids were strong enough to cope with the situation and that over time they would learn to live with their loss. He told them that death wasn’t the end of the road and that they would all be reunited one day.

As the coffin was lowered into the ground, the minister pursued the service with another psalm.”…For the Lord has chosen Zion; he has desired it for his dwelling: “This is my resting place for ever; here have I chosen to live...”” Diana watched as the casket entered the grave knowing that Bill was by her side. If only she could reach out and touch him, but she knew that she couldn’t.

The minister cast soil on the grave and began reciting the Lord’s Prayer. The congregation joined in, ending the prayer with a collective “Amen”. “I will now ask Jo Shores to read the text chosen by her and her sister Claire as a tribute to the deceased,” disclosed the priest.

Jo, fiddling nervously with the pink ribbon pinned to her blouse, looked hesitantly at her sister for a moment. She walked over to the priest and turned to face the crowd, holding up a piece of paper she had just pulled from her purse. She took a deep breath before speaking. “Twenty-eight years ago, two university students met and fell in love. They were inseparable from the word go. Dad called Mum his muse saying she made him a better person and inspired him to become a better writer. Mum said she knew at first glance that he was an artist and that she had found the one who was going to colour her world. Little did she know she would end up with the entire rainbow.  Together they made beautiful music. This is their song. “Whenever you’re away from me, wherever you go, you’re never far away from me, I want you to know, I only have to close my eyes dear, and suddenly I’m where you are, you better never stray, ‘cos I’ll never be far away.””

Choked sounds rose from the crowd as a man broke down in tears no longer able to hold back his pent-up emotion. As he wept, Claire reached out and embraced him. She buried her head in his chest, holding on to him tightly. Jo joined her sister wrapping her arms around the two of them in a group hug and began to cry as well.

Diana came up behind the man and rested her head on his shoulder but he didn’t notice her. She placed her lips to the man’s ear, holding on to him and her daughters as best as she could. “You can’t imagine,” she whispered to Bill, “just how much I’m going to miss all of you. I’ll never be far away…” She pecked both of her daughters tenderly on the side of the head, kissed her husband lovingly on the cheek and then was gone.

Angels Forever Part 2

Iconic Charlie’s Angels star, Farrah Fawcett

 

Discussing favourite angels on TV show, Charlie’s Angels, MBH (my better half) and I had a ‘snap’ moment when we both chose Farrah Fawcett.   

Although Fawcett will always be remembered for that gorgeous mane, dazzling smile and sexy “burnt orange” swimsuit poster, her tireless work raising awareness about cancer will never be forgotten. “Farrah wanted to share her journey and let others battling cancer know they weren’t alone,” says Mike Pingel, Fawcett’s former personal assistant.  

Mike met Farrah in 2005 during the taping of reality TV show, ‘Chasing Farrah’. She was looking for an assistant and Pingel applied for the job.  However, the interview didn’t go very well. On being asked who his favourite angel was, Mike made a gaffe by answering ‘Cheryl Ladd’. Needless to say, he wasn’t hired. 

Surprisingly, a call came in several months later from the show’s producer-director asking Mike whether Farrah could see his vast collection of Charlie’s Angels memorabilia. “The next thing I knew, she was in my apartment playing with my Charlie’s Angels toys,” he says. Mike and Farrah hit it off immediately and he became her assistant shortly after.  

Recalling his 2-year stint working for Fawcett, Mike says one of the most memorable moments was being at the 2006 Emmy Awards when Farrah, Kate Jackson and Jaclyn Smith reunited for a tribute to producer Aaron Spelling. “It was like walking back in time onto the set of Charlie’s Angels,” he says. “It was priceless!”  

Sadly, Farrah was diagnosed with anal cancer shortly after the Emmys and had to begin treatment, including surgery and chemotherapy. “I’ve always believed in fate and that God sends you where you need to go,” says Pingel. “I was able to help Farrah during the most devastating time of her life.” 

To encourage others afflicted with the disease, Fawcett designed a t-shirt and donated part of the proceeds to the American Cancer Society.  “Farrah’s motto was ‘Fight the Fight’,” says Pingel. “We had it printed on the t-shirts along with a picture of Farrah with her dukes up.” A 2-hour documentary chronicling Farrah’s battle with her illness was aired in 2009, shortly before her death. Unlike ‘Chasing Farrah’, ‘Farrah’s Story’ was a hit and was seen by close to 9 million viewers when it premiered.  

Mike says he was blessed to call Fawcett his friend. “Farrah was a strong woman with a huge heart. She touched my life and I will miss her forever.”

Mike currently runs the official websites of Cheryl Ladd, Tanya Roberts and Charlie’s Angels. He has written several books on Charlie’s Angels, The Brady Bunch and Wonder Woman, and recently published ‘Betty White Rules the World – The Ultimate (and Unauthorized) Guide to Television’s Grande Dame‘; all available on Amazon.

For more information about Mike’s books, visit www.mikepingel.com. For Charlie’s Angels news, go to www.charliesangels.com 

 

Farrah’s famous swimsuit poster

Angels Forever Part 1

I recently had the pleasure of interviewing Mike Pingel, Angelogist-extraordinaire and author of CharliesAngels.com. Mike has a vast knowledge of 70s television and has written several guides to shows including The Brady Bunch and Wonder Woman. In this 2-part interview, Mike speaks about his favourite show, Charlie’s Angels, the friendship he shares with the heavenly cast and how he beat the odds to become Farrah Fawcett's personal assistant.

Just like Mike, my partner and I were taken by the show when the series first aired in 1976. We were mesmerized by those angels. They had the full package - natural beauty, brains and style - and could fight crime without messing up their flawless hairdos and makeup. A feat in itself! It's easy to see why Charlie's Angels had such a massive following and continues to appeal to a legion of gay fans worldwide...

“Once upon a time, there were three little girls who went to the police academy…

...um, that's four little girls in this pic!”

 

The 1970s was a decade of change, forever remembered as the era of bell-bottom pants, platform shoes and hippie hairstyles. While disco was gaining momentum, television was undergoing a major shift and turning stereotypes on their heads. At the time, albeit on different continents, MBH (my better half) and I were both glued to Charlie’s Angels, one of the first series to portray heroines as strong, independent women.

“Back then, the stars of Charlie’s Angels and their characters were an inspiration to so many young girls and women,” says Mike Pingel, former personal assistant to the late Farrah Fawcett and author of ‘Channel Surfing: Charlie’s Angels’. 

Action roles were traditionally written for men, so seeing three beautiful private detectives on screen kicking ass was refreshing. “It wasn’t just a jiggle show,” says Fawcett in Pingel’s book. “We were intelligent and a lot of people got that.” Fawcett starred in season 1 of the series that ran from ‘76 to ‘81.

Kate Jackson came up with the idea of Charlie, the mysterious boss that none of the angels ever got to meet. She is also credited with the concept of the desk speakerphone that Charlie (voiced by John Forsythe) famously spoke through. Initially cast as Kelly Garrett, Jackson switched to Sabrina Duncan, a stronger character. The role of Kelly eventually went to Jaclyn Smith whilst Farrah Fawcett played Jill Munroe.

Every week the angels would go undercover to investigate a crime posing as showgirls, prostitutes, belly dancers, preachers or nurses. Many of the episodes involved camp scenes featuring predatory lesbians and swishy queens. It’s easy to see why the series has been so popular with gay audiences over the years.

“There are so many moments that stand out,” says Pingel. “Who could forget the time Kelly got in a cat fight with a drag queen in ‘Angels on the Line’!” Then there’s that iconic scene in ‘Angels in Chains’ when the girls had a run in with a butch female prison guard. Another draw card for gay fans was the number of Hollywood hunks who guest starred, often shirtless, on the show. These include Tom Selleck, Timothy Dalton, Tab Hunter, Dack Rambo, Robert Ulrich and Dirk Benedict.

Mike Pingel would love to get all the angels together for a television reunion to share their favourite memories. One fun anecdote in Pingel’s book involves David Doyle, who played Bosley, mooning the girls when they were having trouble with a scene. An avid collector of Charlie’s Angels memorabilia, Pingel maintains a friendship with all the angels, especially Cheryl Ladd with whom he’s very close.

“These ladies are truly heavenly and have all been super sweet allowing me into their lives,” he says. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Angels in Chains

(to be continued)

Words That Kill

As kids, both MBH (my better half) and I experienced bullying. It is not a new phenomenon, but it is a serious problem and getting worse, particularly in Australian schools.

Back in the day, with no technology at hand, kids dealt with their issues face to face. However, they were never intimidated into playing down their abilities at school, missing class or quitting an extra-curricular activity. Nor were they pushed to harm themselves or contemplate suicide out of sheer desperation.

Nowadays, bullying has snowballed into a free-for-all with displays of violence usually associated with action movies and video games. Gay youths are a minority group particularly at risk.

A national study conducted in Australia by the La Trobe University suggests that 79 per cent of same-sex attracted students have been verbally-abused or physically-assaulted. As a result, 1 in 6 has attempted suicide at least once.

With social media being the popular battle ground, much of the taunting is virtual and out of sight. Victims are hassled through Facebook, text messages and emails. Mobile phones are used to record heinous acts of violence. No one is safe, not even within the sanctity of their own home.

Bullying is a complicated and serious problem that I believe has to be addressed on several levels. Teachers need to be trained to identify and tackle offenders. Schools need to be more inclusive of gay students. Parents need to have a more hands-on approach in their children’s upbringing.

A UK survey states that working parents spend under 20 minutes a day with their children, hardly enough time to teach their offspring values, morals, discipline, and respect towards others. Let’s face it: it isn’t in front of the telly or computer games that kids will hone their social skills.

But the situation isn’t all gloom and doom. There are schools in Australia that have specific policies on gay bullying and provide gay students with a safe environment in which to study. Gay support groups are encouraged and discrimination of any kind is dealt with swiftly.

As a community, we should be spending as much time protecting our youngest members as we are defending adult issues. After all, their causes are no less important than ours.

Ultimately, every child, gay or straight, should be able to attend school without fear.

The Yin And Yang Of Relationships

To some, finding Mr Right can be as daunting as the idea of a camping trip to Africa. The trick is to be open to new experiences and to not lose your way with unrealistic expectations.

When MBH (my better half) and I first started dating, we were drawn to each other by difference as much as commonality. Sharing a similar outlook on life helped us get past the stage of being just mates. But it’s our contrasting personalities that have kept the relationship interesting and fresh.

MBH is a great organiser. Give him a laptop and he can whip up an Excel document in a Sydney minute. I wouldn’t know a spreadsheet from a bed sheet and definitely haven’t got a head for formulas.

However, ask him to keep the house tidy and he’ll give you a blank stare. The notion of closing drawers and cupboard doors is as foreign to him as throwing away empty wrappers and taking the garbage out.

“Isn’t that what househusbands are for?” he’ll say. Some people love living dangerously.

But none of that really matters. What counts is that we fit together like an old sock in an old shoe and offset each other. He’s the quiet one. I’m the extravert. I rev him up. He calms me down. He has great taste in fashion. I’m more of a dag. You get the picture. He’s basically the yin to my yang.

Over the years, we’ve gotten used to compromise. Our needs and interests have changed as well. This includes holidaying as a couple. As a single man, I enjoyed travelling the world to remote and dangerous locations. Now that I’m with my partner, I think of adventure differently.   

When I tell MBH of how I once took a dump by moonlight in the wilds of Botswana, surrounded by hungry hyenas, with nothing but a bunch of leaves to clean myself with, he physically shudders, grateful to have missed the magical moment.

If I could repeat driving through Africa, I’d be tempted to lose the tent and adhere to my partner’s ideal of luxury travel. Throw in great food and a bottle of chilled wine and I’d be a happy man. Perhaps the mention of shopping would lure MBH into coming along. Now that’s what I call compromise.

Gillard Move A Step Backwards For Australia

MBH (my better half) and I were both gobsmacked when Prime Minister Julia Gillard gave her seal of approval to faith-based organisations wishing to discriminate against homosexuals in the work force.

Ms. Gillard’s decision to endorse bigotry to “avoid injury to the sensitivities” of particular religious groups goes against the basic Australian belief that everyone regardless of race, religion or sexuality should be treated with respect and dignity.

By denying homosexuals equal civil rights, our prime minister is sending out a very clear message to our community. We are mere second-class citizens and our sensitivities are inconsequential.

My partner and I are still trying to wrap our heads around the argument that a person’s sexuality could get in the way of their profession. What it really says to us is that any gay employee working for an organisation run by a religious group puts him/herself at the mercy of their employer.

Stay in the closet, keep in line and you’ll be fine. Be true to yourself and we’ll fire your arse!

Treating homosexuality as a “lifestyle” choice makes as much sense as blaming someone for their race or eye colour. It’s tantamount to playing God and judging someone’s core identity over their actions. No one should ever be given that right, let alone an employer.

Given the shortage of staff and funding in education and health care, one would think that employees working in faith-based schools, universities, hospitals, retirement villages and nursing homes would be valued and held in high regard. These people are after all the pillars of our society.

Sadly, personal religious beliefs continue to take precedence over public ethics. It is a real slap in the face to the many gay teachers, care-givers, nurses and doctors who do a fantastic job, going beyond the call of duty, caring for others.

Australians are very clear about their stance regarding homosexuality, gay marriage and equal civil rights. Recently asked on the Sydney Morning Herald website whether faith-based organisations should be allowed to refuse to hire people who don’t live according to the organisation’s belief system, 63% of poll takers answered “no”.

We live in a country that reflects a democratic ideology; a society that promises equal opportunities to all and vows to protect the vulnerable. A majority of Australians strive to uphold these values. Why don’t our leaders?

Julia Gillard’s speeches about moving our nation forward remain nothing but talk. My message to her is simple. Ensure all citizens are treated equally, regardless of their sexual identity. Fairness, decency and respect are the elements that will ultimately make our society evolve and turn Australia into the fantastic country God intended it to be.