Friday, February 5, 2016

Agnes and Me

Saturday, December 26, 2015

No, I didn't get Your Text

My  New Telephone. It's a Smart Phone.

Friday, December 25, 2015

My Birdy Tree

A Happy Holiday to All my blog readers.

Friday, October 9, 2015

You Know My Name, Not My Story

Going Home

After Tulip was born, we finally got an apartment, in Brooklyn. We realized it was impossible to raise a child in hotel rooms. Tiny got the master bedroom with a bath, Tulip got the smaller room, and I got the living room and the bathroom in the hall.
There was a kitchen with room for a small table and chairs, which my parents donated, and Tulip's high chair. Tiny never dined with us, he chose to eat alone, in his room, food usually delivered, KFC or Pizza or other fast food.  I cooked for myself and Tulip and we ate in the little kitchen together.

The public perception of my life was a far cry from the reality I experienced.
To this day, I am astonished by the many misconceptions I've read or heard about me over the years.
That I left  Tiny Tim for a male model...( I did not.) I  did pursue a modeling career and during that time, met a male model, who was openly gay, and lived in New York City.  We became friendly after a photo shoot together. He gave me a map to help me find my way around, since I was unfamiliar with New York. That was the extent of our "relationship".
However, Tiny Tim chose to tell everyone that I left him for this fellow, whom I never had any contact with again after I left.  Tiny knew exactly where I was and with the home of my parents in New Jersey, with our two year old daughter. I never saw or spoke to this male model again. Even though it was widely reported otherwise...
Most of the stories printed in books and articles were most flattering to Mr Tim, but no so much to me.

 One author in particular tells about me "partying all night while Tiny was away,"  I spoke to this author after reading this, who, by the way, never contacted me before writing his tall tales, and I asked him where he got this information. His response was:" From the newspapers." I asked him if it ever occurred to him where my infant daughter may have been while I was doing this all night partying. (Which I had Never done) Was she with me? Was she home alone? He had no logical answer, and no, this thought did not occur to him. Nor did it occur to him contact me to corroborate anything he chose to write. His exact words to me were "When in doubt, ask Tiny."
 His two rather unreliable sources: Newspaper articles and Tiny Tim.

The true reason I felt I had to get out of the marriage was This: Since Tiny was home more often than not, due to fewer and fewer bookings, he chose to spend Every night locked in his room with his dear friend, Isadore Fertel, a song writer he met, when or how I do not know. Isadore was a bit creepy, and clammy, and I found his constant presence a nuisance.
They were up All Night, into the morning, singing and playing music. They were quite loud and the baby would wake up startled and crying. It would take hours for me to rock her and settle her back down.
 One night, I finally worked up the courage to tap on Tiny's door. He poked his head out. I asked him if they could please be a bit more quiet, because the baby couldn't sleep. He shouted at me "No One Tells Me What to Do in My House! I will Make as Much noise as I want! It is Your job to take care of the Kid!"(He always referred to her as "the kid") Then he slammed the door, and turned up the music even louder.The baby cried all night. He heard her, but continued the loud singing and laughter.

I knew then that I had to go. I had to get out. I could take his cruelty, his oddness,his indifference, but it was now spilling onto our child, and I felt it would only get worse.
When he left to go on tour again, I packed two bags, swept Tulip up and got on a Greyhound Bus and went home to my parents.

I Never went back. Ever.

I don't want to paint him as cold blooded. He was not. He was a damaged human being and unable to cope with being a father or a husband. I do not hold him entirely responsible for his actions or his behavior.
Yes, he hurt me. I'm sure I hurt him as well, particularly by leaving him. His career was most important to him, which is understandable. He struggled very long and hard to achieve success, and he often told me it would ruin his career if I ever left him.

He married two more times, after having told me and everyone else that he did not believe in, and would not acknowledge a divorce, and would always be married Only to me; and according to his Bible:
"You only marry once, for life."

In a conversation I had with him later, after he had remarried the first time, I questioned him about this. He told me that the Bible says "Man should not live alone."
It seemed he chose to interpret his bible in whatever way suited him best.... I did not know how his mind worked.

Once back home, I didn't know what I was going to do next. But I did know that somehow, I would figure it out.


Sunday, September 27, 2015

Almost Fall

I took this photo of the garden shed. A few leaves are turning red. But most still remain green. Long summers here in the South. But I'm not complaining!

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Another Excerpt from My Memoir ......... Photo: Me & Mom

Thanks Mommy.

I had the best Mother ever. I'm sure most people feel that they do, but in the case of my Mother, it is true.
Her first name was Emma. She never liked it, thinking it was old fashioned, so she preferred to be called Bette, (her middle name was Elizabeth). So, she was known as Bette by everyone except my dad, who called her Em.

My Mother was very pretty. She wore little makeup, mostly a little rouge, as she called it and red lipstick. But I think what made her so appealing was her smartness and her quick wit.
She had few friends. She didn't seem to need any. She liked her own company and preferred being with me and my sisters and my Father.

She loved to read and would get lost in a book sometimes and forget that it was time for dinner.(I now find myself doing the same thing)
My Father was a traveling salesman, so he was only home from Friday til Monday, so it was up to us, my four sisters and Mommy to hold down the fort.

Neither of my parents were the yelling kind. We would be lectured if we misbehaved. And I never heard my parents raise their voices with each other either. I can only remember them laughing and loving one another and having fun with me and my sisters.
Sometimes me and my younger sister would be clowning around, dancing and singing, while my Mother was reading or doing a crossword puzzle, which was one of her favorite hobbies, especially the Sunday Times crossword, which she always was able to finish. She'd watch us for awhile and tell us how talented we were. Then say,  "you two should be on the stage." (pause) There's one leaving at noon."

In 1997 My Mother died from cancer. It was diagnosed too late and was told nothing could be done to save her.
 Her final days on earth illustrate her strength, but above all, her sense of humor.
Before she died, my two sisters and I sat around on the floor by my Mother's chair, talking and reminiscing. By then, My Father had been gone since 1990 and our other sister Allene had died too.
Our chatting turned to the morbid details we had previously decided we needed to discuss with our Mother.
We asked our Mother when the time comes, what she wanted for her final testimonial. A funeral? Cremation?
Summoning up her eighty years of wit, she gave us an answer none of us will ever forget.
"Surprise me" she said.

As an ironic post script to this story, a few years later, I was diagnosed with cancer .It was quite serious, and the doctor did not give me much hope. He told me to "get my affairs in order".
(Don't buy any green bananas)
I didn't have health insurance and not enough money for cancer surgery.
I felt lost. I decided to go see my Mother's doctor, hoping his prognosis might be different. It wasn't.
He began to talk to me about my Mother, what a wonderful lady she was and how fond he was of her.
How she always made him laugh and never complained during her treatments.

He told me that after her surgery, when my Mother was terminally ill, he went to see her to tell her the bad news..that he had done all he could but she would not survive.
He teared up as he told her this.  He said she put her hand on his arm in a consoling gesture. "Stop that now" she said. " You are a wonderful doctor. You did your best. Don't feel bad"  Her words and her touch comforted him.

"Never in my career have I had a patient who comforted me, Vicki", he told me. I will never forget her.
He then told me he would perform my surgery for no fee. He said, I will do it for your Mother. Because, he said, he loved her.

So, he did. And eighteen  years later, I'm still here.
You may say that my Mom's doctor saved my life, and that's true.
But it was my Mother who really saved my life. It was his love for her that made him want to help me and for no fee.
So, that was my Mother, beautiful, smart and loving. I think of her every day and miss her terribly. And in her own way, in my heart  and in my mind, she never ceases to surprise me.

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Excerpt From My Memoir

Wedding Night

His words in the back of the limousine were like a stab in my heart. All of the kindness of our courtship evaporated, his stinging words were an ending to a bizarre evening.
My new bridegroom's words pierced me so painfully that it sort of pushed a rewind button on the odd scenario I had just been through.
What just happened, I thought, Why was I standing there on The Tonight Show in this Miss Haversham  wedding gown? This was not the dress I wanted to wear. I had chosen a lovely simple gown that fitted my small frame. This one was too large for me, and I hated it. It was made by a designer and I learned later, by a man who made only men's clothing. This was his first dress.
But I was not a complainer. I wore it so that no feelings were hurt.

I knew it was partly my fault, that we had arrived here on a TV show. I should have put my foot down in the first place weeks ago when Johnny Carson invited Tiny to marry on his show. But instead, I was just sitting there in the green room, watching my wedding plans crumble before my eyes on the TV monitor.
This was not what I wanted...the intimate wedding at my parents home with my family and friends I had always dreamed of. Not some sideshow for the entertainment of Late Night TV watchers.
"Isn't this wonderful" Tiny said after the taping of the show..Mr. Carson wants us to get married on his show..What a miracle" The only miracle is that I did not object immediately.
I just quietly said "Why didn't you ask me first? This was not what we planned. I don't want a public spectacle of our wedding"

" Oh Come on, he said, think about it! " Mr. Carson was so kind to offer. We can't disappoint Mr. Carson."

Wait, I thought ..disappoint Mr. Carson? What about me?  But I did not have the courage to say this out loud.  All I could say was " I wish you had asked me first, I don't like this idea"
My words fell upon deaf ears.

It was all moot by now. It happened just the way he wanted it. The TV extravaganza had come off without a hitch. And I suppose everyone watched and loved it. I don't really know.

But the painful part of the evening was yet to come. After the ceremony and the reception, which was not a reception for us, just flashbulbs and microphones in our faces, No opportunity to greet my family or any of the guests, after about an hour of press interviews, we were whisked off to a waiting limo by the two managers.

And here is what my brand new husband said to me. " I just want you to know that I will never be able to be faithful to you. There will always be other women"

I could not believe what I'd just heard. My heart broke. I didn't know what to say.
Should I jump out of the car? No, it was cold, and where would I go? And I feared those who might say "I told you so.This wouldn't work out. He's too old for you. You're too young. Only seventeen to his thirty seven."
I held onto my drooping wedding bouquet, and decided, through my tears to ignore what was just spoken.
The remainder of the ride to the hotel was uncomfortable and quiet.

We went up in the elevator to our separate rooms. (we would always have two separate rooms)
I felt numb.

And now, I had another problem. How to get out of this wedding dress... It took three people to to harness me into this dress with a hundred looped buttons up the back. I was alone now and could not reach all of them.
I eventually managed to wiggle out of it, sort of like Houdini from a straight jacket, now thankful it was too large for me. 

Then I sat there on the edge of the bed and thought.. "Maybe he didn't mean it. Or maybe, he will change his thinking."
I wanted so much to believe that.  And so, I remained.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Monday, August 31, 2015

When you get a reputation for something you've done, for an unfortunate choice you've made, you have a hard road ahead of you. You'll never be anything but what everyone claims you are, no matter how much you have grown, how much you have changed, or what you have done since.

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Why Now?

You may be wondering why now? After all this time, why have I decided to tell my story. Tiny Tim has been gone for nearly twenty years and our relationship ended twice as many years ago as that.

 From nearly the moment my time with Tiny was over, the letters and interview requests and public comments began, and have continued, without let up, to this very day. And now, with all the social media, I receive more messages and correspondence than ever before.

 Most of the inquiries are kind and complimentary. Others are not so kind. Some are accusatory and critical. Why did I leave him? Why did I break his heart? How could I do that to such a fine and gentle soul? They form these questions as if they knew him. They did not.

Over the years, a few books have been published about Tiny Tim and many more magazine and newspaper articles.The majority of these contain information and claims that are either inaccurate, downright false or completely fabricated.

 I have pretty much remained quiet over the years. But everyone has their limit. And recently there seems to be some sort of resurgence of interest in Tiny Tim and even a resurgence of interest in me, for some reason. I felt the need to address the situation and set the record straight.

 Some have asked me pointedly why I would do this now when he is no longer here to defend himself. I would have written this book when Tiny was still alive, but I was quite busy raising a child and working full time to support us both all by myself. As a matter of fact, I sincerely wish he were still here. Perhaps then he could understand so many things I never felt able to express. And to those who might think that I am doing this for personal gain, you are mistaken. I decided long ago that all proceeds from this book would go directly to benefit animal shelters and farm sanctuaries.

To some who think that Tiny's voice in rebuttal is silent because he's not here anymore are also wrong. Tiny left behind daily, intimate, handwritten diaries of his life from the time he was twenty years old in 1952 through the late 1970s. These in-depth, day by day journals not only speak for him in his own words but corroborate much of what I have written. I have these diaries.

 I spend most of my time looking forward not backward. I spent only four years of my life with Tiny Tim. I have lived so much more of my life without him. A life full of happiness and tragedy, accomplishments and setbacks. Some things I am proud of and other things, not so much. As unusual as my life in and out of the spotlight with Tiny Tim was, there is much more to my story. 

Saturday, May 9, 2015

Monday, January 12, 2015

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Mums are Blooming!

And Twinkie seems to enjoy them.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Young Me

                                                       In my Modely Days

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Thursday, December 19, 2013

The Quiet of the Evening

Give me the silence of the country where you can hear birds calling to one another and see too many stars to count in the night sky.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Me, as Wonder Woman

Just a few years my days as a Go Go dancer.

Monday, September 30, 2013

Custard Sulking

She's Not Happy about having Roscoe in the family.

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Introducing>>>> Roscoe

Yes. Another new Kitty. Poor little stray came to visit, seems like he wants to stay. He is welcome here.We love him.

Monday, May 6, 2013

A New Kitty

This Lovely Kitty cat came here a few weeks ago. He clearly has no home, but is Welcome here. He wouldn't let us near him, but I've been feeding him, and he finally let me pet him today. And he Purred!  I hope he's here to stay..We will call him Fuzzy. Cause he is.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

New Flower Picture

The petals are made from cedar, so it smells good too!

Monday, February 25, 2013


My sweet Walter Kitty. He was one of Custard's babies.We kept him and Agnes and found homes for the other four.
Walter became ill, and was diagnosed with Feline Leukemia. He died recently... I miss him terribly..

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Pink Cloud

I took this photo from our porch..I've never seen such a Lovely Cloud Formation..

Twinkie in the Laundry Basket

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Our Christmas Tree

                 Well, a part of it..I love my little handmade animals.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Our Friend: The Walking Stick

Our lovely visitor..what an interesting little creature..He likes to hang onto the window screen and observe us.
I call him Mr. Drood.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Little Piggy

Some New Artwork....I love this one

Thursday, August 23, 2012

My Kitty Cats on the Porch

Agnes ...Saying Goood Moorning!

Sweet Agnes

Here's Pumpkin..He loves having his picture taken..
Twinkie and Agnes Sharing some Love

Twinks relaxing

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Pantries.Canning, and More Pantries

Here's the small storage Pantry.
Onions and Squash from the garden, and lots of pickles...And baskets for gathering herbs and vegetables.
Here are some shelves in the kitchen where I keep canned dry goods..Rice, beans & pasta. And cast iron cookware. And other old junk I like hanging onto for no particular reason.
Canning day today..Made about a dozen jars of tomato sauce from the tomatoes in the garden ...I used some basil and oregano from my herb garden.
Lots of work in a hot kitchen.
But it was fun..and now we have plenty of sauce for the winter!