My Night with Tony Bennett

By Saralee Perel

When I recently saw Tony Bennett perform to a sold-out crowd on Cape Cod where I live, I was so entranced that I felt he was conveying his words only to me. And in fact, two hours later, that was precisely what he'd be doing.

One month earlier, my husband, Bob, surprised me with tickets to the show. He knows I'm crazy about Tony Bennett. But for the past seven years since my spinal cord injury, I haven't been able to function after 5 PM. The remainder of my cord that's still intact is exhausted by day's end from trying to do the work of a whole spinal cord. So it gives up and I'm limp. This happens to many people like me. We call it "crash time."

"Sweetheart," I said to Bob. "You know I can't walk or talk at night."

"Yes you can," he said. "I help you walk. And when you have trouble finding words, I find them for you."

He held me as I looked so discouraged. "I thought you might want to try since it's Tony Bennett. But we can either leave early or we don't have to go at all. It's okay."

I called the theater and explained I'm disabled. I asked about the kind of seats; were there steps or ramps; how long the show would last. As I was just about to ask their cancellation policy, I looked at the tickets in my hand: "CAPE COD MELODY TENT PRESENTS AN EVENING WITH TONY BENNETT." Then I silently declared: If I don't try to push through my crash time barrier now, I never will.

I've learned from other people with SCI that the act of trying, even if we can't follow through completely, is a victory in itself.

Then I came up with a cockamamie idea; finding a way to actually meet Tony Bennett.

After 22 calls, someone mentioned a guy I used to know, named Dick, who's a friend of Tony's. I had met Dick a long time ago on the Cape.

I called him in Washington, D.C., where he now lives. He remembered me. Feeling terribly shy, I forced myself to say, "Um, I hear you know Tony Bennett."

"We talk nearly every other day."

I explained what had happened to me physically and then said, "Bob and I are going to his concert. I'm going to try pushing through a physical hurdle and go out for the first time at night since my injury."

"Wonderful, dear." Such a sweet guy. "How can I help you?"

I told him about my crazy idea of meeting my idol, of overcoming the physical challenge to do so and how inspiring that would be for me. Then I told him about my hope to share that inspiration with others trying to break through their own barriers.

Dick said, "Tony's not just a singer and a painter. He's a humanitarian. I'll see what I can do. I'm coming to the Cape for his concert and would enjoy seeing you and Bob again."

As promised, I e-mailed Dick a few columns about how I've learned to walk again after being told I couldn't, so that he and Tony could get a sense of what I meant by breaking through barriers.

He forwarded my columns to Tony and explained my story. Then Dick told me that Tony remarked about my courage and would love to meet me.

HOLY GUACAMOLE!

Of course my lunatic persona took over. I wrote an introductory sentence in case I went blank. It was simple but better than just staring at him with my mouth open – and no words coming out of it. "I've always loved your voice and your music." I put it in my purse along with 287 breath mints. But I knew I'd forget about my note and instead sound like Tarzan. "You sing good." And poke him in the chest saying, "Me like."

I asked friends: "What should I say to Tony Bennett?"

Everyone was so helpful. (Note my sarcasm please.)

One gal said, "If he asks what song you'd like to hear, say his famous ballad: ‘She Wore an Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini.'"

Another said, "Stand up while he's in the middle of his most well-known song and shout, ‘We've already heard a billion times where you left your stinkin' heart. Get over it already!'"

My friend, musicologist Bill O'Neill, was even more helpful. "If he asks if you'd like his autograph, say, ‘Sure. Please sign it ‘To Saralee - - that's S-A-R-A-L-E-E. With love, Frank Sinatra.'"

When we arrived at the theater, Dick was there to greet us, and told us our meeting would take place after the show, in the green room.

Using my cane for balance with one hand and Bob's arm for balance with the other, I managed to slowly get down an incline to the row where we'd be sitting. Everyone around me knew I was struggling. I was shaking. I was wobbly. And clearly, I could barely move. People were so kind. When Tony's songs received standing ovations, I stood. Several women helped me up and then held on to me so I wouldn't fall.

Afterward, Dick brought us inside the green room where we saw Ted Kennedy, Jr. and his mother, Joan Kennedy.

When Tony walked in, my body temperature skyrocketed. The first thing I said to the first Kennedy I ever met? While fanning my face with my scarf I panted, "Ted. Hot flash! Got any ice?"

It was like a slow-motion movie scene as I watched Dick bring Tony Bennett to meet me. My sweet husband put his arm around my shoulder to show his love and support. Then he softly whispered in my ear, "Take a breath mint!"

I handed Tony a gift bag filled with treasures from our home. There were two tiny hand-painted plates of Cape Cod scenes, a framed old postcard of a local lighthouse, Reeve Foundation tags for him and his wife, and two little books.

He thanked me tenderly. Then he faced me. No, he was not ready to have our pictures taken yet. We talked. He was aware of my triumphant moment.

All my anxiety was gone. I felt peace. I said, "I'm going to write about this moment and share it with the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation. Because you wanted to meet me, you have helped me help myself. And by doing that, you will hopefully be helping other people break through barriers they never thought they could."

Those words were not written down. They came from my heart. I believe we made history on that one beautiful night, when a scared disabled woman pushed beyond "impossible" limits – and made it.

Award-winning columnist/novelist, Saralee Perel, can be reached by email or via her website. She also welcomes friends on Facebook and naturally would love to have friends connect with her in the new Reeve community.