Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Birthday House




Every once in a while, a memory will creep up on me like a kitten waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. Once it hits me, I am startled by what it evokes; actual thoughts and visions clear as day and feelings as powerful as if I only experienced them an hour ago.

Such a memory occurred to me last week for reasons unknown. Bits and pieces scattered throughout my mind of events that took place forty—yes, forty—years ago. I am talking of the time I appeared on Paul Tripp’s Birthday House.

Paul Tripp’s Birthday House was a live television show taped here in New York City. The first episode aired on Monday, April 1, 1963 and starred Mr. Tripp, who was “kid-TV’s” first educator. Several lucky kids in the metro area would come down to the “Birthday House” to celebrate their special day with such characters as “Mr. Knock Knock,” the birthday gift-giving closet and “Mrs. Oven” who would bake and present the kids’ birthday cake to them at the end of the show. As one of the show’s biggest fans, I was enamored with the different puppets, the pretty ladies who dressed and spoke so eloquently, the fun games the kids would play, and of course, the dapper Mr. Tripp himself.

You can imagine my surprise when one day in 1967, out of what seemed to be the clear, blue sky, a postcard handwritten by Paul Tripp arrived at my house and announced that I had been chosen to celebrate my birthday at “The Birthday House.” I knew every quirky character on that show. I had every song memorized by heart. I had every puppet in stuffed-animal form sitting on my bed. One would think that this would be the absolute highlight of my whole four years of life on this earth. Why, then, did I sit on the top of the steps and cry my eyes out? I can still see my mom sitting next to me, trying to convince me that I would have a wonderful experience, and saying over and over again, “…But isn’t this what you always wanted??” Well, yes, I thought it was. Until it became a reality.

The train ride into NYC was most likely my first, and so enjoyable that I can remember it with perfect clarity to this day. One of my parents asked me, “What does the conductor say before the train starts moving?”…and it was all over with. After my first “ALL ABOARD!” and the subsequent laughter and applause from every other passenger in our car, I was hooked on the attention. I must’ve said “All aboard” four hundred and fifty-seven times, much to the enjoyment of my parents and eventually to the chagrin of the passengers who sat there dreaming of ways to invent the impossible mechanism that could play all of their favorite music while they wore earphones so as not to have to listen to the annoying child one minute longer.

I only remember bits and pieces of being in the studio. At one point in the show, Mr. Tripp sat all the kids down on a small set of wooden steps. As I positioned myself up high in the back, I recall him asking us questions I can’t remember, but that I answered in unison with the other kids.

That, and the huge, prominent mole above his left eye.

I can honestly say that I could not remember that mole ever making an appearance on his show for even one brief second. But that day, there it was in all of its mole-ly glory, riding up and down on his eyebrow every time he excitedly told us a story or sung us a song. For reasons that are only valid to a four year old, the advent of that growth put me in a state of petrified fear and prevented me from participating in the rest of the show. Although I was present, I couldn’t take my focus off of it and constantly had to be redirected by one of the pretty, eloquent women, who seemed to be losing their graciousness and poise as each minute progressed. Before I knew it, Mr. Tripp was also turning into a regular human, and started to become curt with me as well. Where were all the perpetually, impossibly nice people that I saw every day on my television? Who were these people telling me where to stand, telling me how to act, and being…well…not nice to me??

I couldn’t take it anymore and did what any self-respecting four year old would do: I started to cry. And cry. And cry some more. So much so that my dad had to come and take me off the stage.

And there it was. My fifteen minutes of fame, over in five.

I don’t remember much after that. But I do remember watching the episode in my living room with my mom, who apparently forgot what events took place that day until she was reminded by viewing the footage. “Lisa!! Look at you!! You’re just standing there!! I can’t believe it—you nagged me and nagged me to be on that show, and you just stood there and did nothing!!” Believe it or not, I do remember feeling regret…probably for the very first time in my life. Why didn’t I move? Why didn’t I participate and sing along with the characters? Why was I afraid of the puppets that I adored when they were inside my TV set? Why can’t I just have another chance? Hey, now there’s an idea!! I’ll just go back on the show when I’m five. I’ll bet there’s not a mole around that can scare me when I’m five!

Well, of course, my mom didn’t think that was such a great idea. And ultimately, the show went off the air six months after my birthday anyway, so it wasn’t an option.


Most people I talk to do not remember "Birthday House." The internet doesn't supply much information, although the pictures I found almost brought me to tears from the memories (good tears and good memories). Hopefully, the next time I'm asked to be on a television show I'll be able to behave myself in a more mature manner. I think forty years can make a difference...




(Paul Tripp: 1911-2002. Rest in peace...thanks for the memories!)

15 comments:

Loving Annie said...

Good Thursday morning Lisa !

What we want in our imaginations can be very different from what we are comfortable with in reality.

I am reminded of that when I see the toddlers who wait with their mom for an hour or two to sit on Santa's lap at the Mall during the holidays.
It is all they have been talking about for weeks.
But now that there are finally up there, they burst into tears and want nothing to do with his unfamiliar large man they do not know.

I know that if you went on televison now, there isn't a mole on anyone's face that could intimidate you !

Hopefully when we see you, it will be being interviewed by the handsome Matt Lauer, who I think has fairly good/smooth skin !

Sincerely,
Loving Annie

Big Dave T said...

Now you've got me wondering about my similar guest appearance on a local TV show with "Captain Muddy." I was five and part of a birthday group too (not mine).

Wish I could remember it better. All I know is that we were offered treats afterwards including a "banana flip" or a "devil's delight."

I remember being interviewed by the Captain and he asked me about my "muddy shoes." Our car had broken down on the way and we had to walk through some mud while we got better transportation.

Of course, being the wit that I am now, I know I should have drawn a parallel between the Captain and my shoes. For example, "I got my shoes muddy in your honor, captain."

Lisa said...

Loving Annie,

It is so embarrassing to me now to admit that I had a prejudice against a mole on someone's face!! But again, I was only four.

When I was about five or six, I remember seeing a Down's Syndrome child for the first time on a playground at a park where we were having a large picnic. I was very intimidated and confused, and tried to get away from that playground as quickly as I could! Now, I work with them every day, and I love them all to pieces.

Thank goodness we grow up, recognize our own warts, and become more tolerant of others. Well, most of us...where I live, a lot of people won't even talk to you if you're wearing a shirt from Old Navy! Poor souls. Hopefully they'll get it someday!

Take good care,
Lisa

Lisa said...

Big Dave,

You just crack me up. I find it ironic that Captain Muddy asked about your muddy shoes, and that they didn't even clean you off before you went on the air!! Maybe they were hoping for an answer like the one you just gave...ahhh, hindsight. I see that the "if only's" get to you, too!

Take good care,
Lisa

Carine said...

My daughter felt the same about Mr. Rogers! When we moved into our home here, she wrote to him and "let it fly" about how mad she was about leaving her home for this! He wrote her back a beautiful letter. When he passed away numerous years later, she cried.

Loving Annie said...

Lisa,
Happy Sunday the 29th to you ! Just wanted to stop by and say hello an see what was new with you !
Today is "thank you's" on my blog, and you got an honorable mention !

Lisa said...

Carine,

It's funny how things from our childhood can touch us so. Personally, I was a big "Sesame Street" fan...but not until I had my daughter!! I loved watching that show with her, it was intelligent and witty, and I found myself laughing out loud at some of the skits!

One thing I remember from childhood is "Schoolhouse Rock"--I think they have it on DVD, and I'd love to pick it up for old time's sake!

Take good care,
Lisa

Lisa said...

Loving Annie,

Thanks for stopping by and I'm going to visit you right now. :)

Take good care,
Lisa

Young Werther said...

TV..behave in a mature manner... it won't be on any Jerry Springer show then :o)

Big Dave T said...

Lisa--

Thought you asked a good question on my latest blog, so I answered it there. Just in case you don't make it back, here's what I wrote:

LISA--Gee, I thought that "tonka toast" would be familiar to any camper, but I see I'm wrong. Googling the phrase doesn't help either.

"Tonka toast" is my family's name for a "pie iron sandwich." You put ham, cheese, whatever between two slices of bread which then go into a two-piece cast iron mold which clasps together over the sandwich. You hold it over the fire as the cast iron molding sits at the end of a wooden-handled stake. It's much like roasting marshmallows, only you're making grilled cheese, or grilled ham and cheese. Once it's toasted to your liking, you separate the cast iron halves and, voila!, you have a campfire sandwich, aka pudgie, hobo sandwich, etc.

Lisa said...

Young Werther,

Um, no, you won't be seeing me on the Jerry Springer show any time soon!! Thank goodness!! Not my cup of tea. ;)

I haven't been by your site in a while, I'll pop over soon!

Take good care,
Lisa

Lisa said...

Big Dave,

Thanks for the explanation, sounds yummy!! We had no idea. My husband started getting into the camping thing about two years ago, and I went for the first time last September. So we're not experts, but he's pretty adept at fixing up a camp. I'll have to look up various campfire foods the next time I go--or, rather, the next time HE goes. That's not my cup of tea, either. ;)

Take good care,
Lisa

Mark said...

Lisa,
Thanks for the memory trip. Interesting how you now look back and have a memory of your first regret.

Lisa said...

Mark,

Now how many of us can say that?! I honestly remember feeling that way...I didn't understand it while I was there, but once I saw it on TV, I realized how silly I looked. And that my actions didn't look like the OTHER kid's actions...well, you know how it is when you're young!

Take good care,
Lisa

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