When I was a boy growing up back east, I was only allowed to stay up past my bedtime on two occasions, and even then my mother would have to gently coerce my father, especially when those times interfered with school the next day.

Even at an early age, I loved to hang out with the adults in a social setting when it was apparent that many of those adults didn’t want a little rug rat around them. Thus, I found my real niche enjoying time with the senior citizens; the other cast away group of society.

The first time began when we made the transition from the end of the year to the next one. It was still the holidays; the tree fully decorated, along with snow on the ground. As all my younger siblings were normal in the sense of going to bed at a regular time, I was more of a night hawk, as I was prone to be called back then, and enjoyed staying up to watch Guy Lombardo and his orchestra ring in the New Year as my mother and I (dad would join in on occasion) toasted with glasses of Asti Spumanti (in German households, children grow up with beer...in Italian homes, children grow up with wine and Asti Spumanti) until the bottle was empty and I was finally sent off to bed (wonder what the Child Protection Agency would do to someone like my mother in today’s world?...).

The next big night for my mother and I came at the end of March when the Academy Awards were shown to a worldwide audience (or in those early days at least to a North American population). As my accountant father spent the evening pouring over columns of numbers in large ledgers, mumbling enough to be heard that my mother shouldn’t waste her time filling my head with such nonsense of movie stardom, mom would make popcorn and other snacks to fill an evening of glamour and excitement as we watched (my siblings were never interested in this stuff, but would pop into the livingroom from time to time for a handful of snacks) the limos arrive with the stars.

My father was never interested in going to the movies unless it was a James Bond feature, thus I was usually mom’s date for the movies, which would occur on a weekly basis, so it was quite natural for us to watch the award show and comment about the films we liked and disliked the previous year, as well as the fashions and other technical aspects. This tradition began in the late 60s for us, but for my mother, who was born the same year as Oscar was in 1927 (as well as Mickey Mouse), it went way before I was born when she was a little girl, helping out in her parent’s family owned business that was a cornucopia of delights, from a barber shop, to five and dime items, to breakfast and lunch served on a daily basis (and where in fact she met her future husband). Mother worked behind the counter as a hostess in between devouring the latest movie star magazines, and dreaming of the day she, too, would one day be among them, as I will forever be reminded that, Stella means star and I could’ve been a star if your grandparents didn’t hold me back!...

She inevitably passed those dreams and desires onto me, and thus when I announced one day that I would become an actor, she had a momentary sense of dread, thinking about how she would calm down my father once he heard the news, and perhaps horrified at what she had unknowingly instilled in me. Since I was in my own world, I was oblivious to all of this at the time.

Over the years and the decades, I have gone through my highs and lows, but overall, I have fashioned my career on my own terms and have faired better than most.

Not long ago, my partners and I began production on our latest venture where we ended up in Hollywood of all places, with events just seeming to collide that had brought me face to face with my own childhood dreams, and how interesting it was to see how a part of me reacted to all of it...

Just as we were filming segments for our production near the Kodak Theatre, a sign went up announcing this year’s Academy Awards would be on display with one of them for the public to hold.

Are you kidding?... Not only could the public actually hold an authentic Academy Award, but they were also allowed to have their photo taken with the statue. And since this was the first day of the event, there were not a lot of people in attendance.

I had been waiting nearly 40 years for this moment, and I wasn’t about to let it escape me, as I detoured my partner who was shooting film footage of the area to the high security room where the gleaming golden statues were lined up to be oohed and aahed over. There, in the center of the room, was one sitting on a pedestal waiting to be handled.

As I walked toward it, a flood of memories washed over me. Not only my mother and I during our annual event, but later on, as an actor in New York, with my thespian friends, voting and debating our choices during our informal Oscar parties. I have friends who own Academy Awards; have seen many of these statues in trophy cases, but never have I come this close to actually handling one myself. And now, here it was before me.

As I stood before the 13-inch Golden Boy and gazed upon it, I instinctively grabbed it by the ankles near the film canister base and held it up. I was startled at first at how heavy it was (it weighs 8.5 pounds), and then it grew quite comfortable, as though it felt right to be holding one; as though it seemed natural that it should belong to me.

And this is how dreams become realities, I thought. By the simple act of crossing the line...

A couple of weeks later mother called to do the birthday greetings and well wishes (doesn’t matter if I don’t get a birthday every year, friends and family still remember me), and it was then that I told her of my experience. At first she didn’t seem to acknowledge what I had said, until several minutes into our conversation, she stammered, Do you mean to tell me you actually held a real Oscar?

I was waiting for a thud from the other end of the phone, but she seemed to compose herself and then wanted to know all the glorious details while reminding me that when I’m nominated for my own Academy Award, I better not forget to invite her to the ceremony. Yes, mother...

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the following week I would be back in Los Angeles for a couple of award shows; one of which was my friend, Ted Baehr’s Movieguide Awards held at the Beverly Hills Hilton (where the Golden Globe awards were recently held) just a couple of days before the Academy Award show.

With celebrities like Robert Davi, Bill Paxton, Steven Collins, Deanne Bray, Eric Close, Catherine Hicks, Ken Howard, Diane Venora, Natalie Grant and Pat Boone (whom I literally bumped into on my way to the restroom), it was my first big awards show. I was thankful I remembered what utensil went with what course meal and could hold my own in dinner conversation at the table.

Again, as I was able to mingle with the various celebrities and studio executives in attendance, I felt totally at ease all dressed up. It was as though I belonged there; that I was finally where I belonged on the long road to this life journey.

And the Academy Awards?... once again, it was a mob scene and a security nightmare along Hollywood Boulevard in the surrounding area of the Kodak Theatre where people piled up 10 deep to catch a glimpse of their favorite stars. As for myself, I stayed away, allowing my partners to handle that scene. I’d rather attend the show a bit more in style, either as a presenter or a nominee.

That day, I’m sure will arrive in the very near future, for I still retain the passion and the hunger as I have since childhood. And least I forget, I must remember to invite my mother, else I shall never hear the end of it...

Until Next Month,