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| QUICK LINKS |
| By Sheila MacKenzie Lane | ||
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Performing Arts For Children, Inc. is a miracle. It manifested itself, in part, as my spiritual
journey toward enlightenment. I am currently the only employee of this nonprofit organization. I
do the telephone and paper work. My Senior Partner (God) directs the program's evolution. In so
doing, He does the heavy lifting, angel locating and is in charge of the miracles. The adventure,
embarked upon, in retrospect, is what my life experience had prepared me for.  The two programs I currently direct have given me the pleasure of introducing about 9,000 children, mostly, "at risk," disadvantaged, to live performances of the performing arts. My first year of operation was 2000. My first date was August 24, 2000. I began serving low-income children and evolved to serve truly disadvantaged schools. The children "who never get to go anywhere." These little angels are destined to be the future gang members, drug addicts and dealers. My concept is that one wonderful day filled with love and joy may alter the negative prognosis. Falling in love with each and every child I have met over the years, has been the easiest thing I have ever done. When I tell a child they are perfect, whole and complete, that there has never been anyone just like them before, nor will there be again, they hear the truth. In fact there is no competition because they are perfect. Empowering them, I have watched their chins lift and spines straighten. Our organization charges no fees for two reasons. A child who asks a parent for money to participate in a program when the parent does not have the funds, create two broken hearts. That of the deprived child and that of the parent who feel they have failed their child. If I charged a fee most of the children and their schools could not have participated in my programs. The first program conducted field trips to morning rehearsals at the Hollywood Bowl. First grade students watched and listened to live performances of the Los Angeles Philharmonic and Hollywood Bowl Orchestras. The members of these Orchestras are among the most gifted musicians as well as the entertainers they accompany are world renowned. This is accomplished in a unique theater, the largest amphitheater in the world. This theater lies in the midst of nature's magnificent and rustic beauty, framed by trees and built into a canyon of the Hollywood Hills for its acoustics. A third of the 18,000 seat theater remains in the shade for most of the morning and it is elevated so conditions are comfortable even on the hottest days of Summer. The open rehearsals are one of Los Angeles' best kept secrets. To date about 6,820 1st grade students have experienced this magic. Young children understand classical music and the performing arts as easily as a smile. The process has amazed me. Each devastating set back was countered with an equally potent and positive event. Mistakes were made and a necessary lesson was learned at each conjunction. Inspired and empowered, I began surrendering to my destiny in 2000 with as little resistance as I was able to manage. In January of 1998 my husband, Mitch and I watched a television program which informed us of how young children positively respond to classical music and the performing arts. For nine years prior to and the first eight years of our marriage Mitch and I lived three doors from the grounds of the Hollywood Bowl. Most morning rehearsals of the evening performance are open to the public and take place almost every morning except Monday. We wondered why no one was conducting a program which would expose young children to these rehearsals of mostly classical music. My beloved Mitch died on December 14, 1998. I did not know how to live without him, until I did. Mitch's death carved a wound in me that could not heal, had I thought about it. I realize now the essential part of my path Mitch was destined to play. Our work for fifteen years was the center of our lives. We loved each other and working together. I was unable to imagine more joyful employment, until I created it. Mitch taught me all I needed to know to achieve what I have. The shock of my loss and those that followed, encouraged me to"Trust the Process." and God. My ability to believe in and surrender to preordained direction, has proven its logical truth. My survival of Mitch was primarily supported by my living through and recovering from life threatening injuries suffered in a car accident which occurred on May 17, 1966. While walking across La Cienega Boulevard at Clinton Way I was struck by a car. The car hit my left femur propelling me up when the back of my skull struck the windshield and metal bar. I flew 92 feet from the scene of the accident. I suffered a compound fractured femur, multiple fractures of the skull and extensive brain damage. I was in a coma for about three months. When I woke from the coma the right side of my body was paralyzed for some time. Within the next six months my body had for the most part healed itself but it took a little longer for my complete recovery. I consider this experience the third most important event of my life. The first and second, my birth and parents, the forth Mitch, and the fifth, Performing Arts For Children. About three inches behind my left ear I have large and terrible scars, caused by the fractures to my skull. My hair easily covers those scars. I now understood how different my life would have been if those scars were on my face rather than the back of my head. I have also learned it is not the car striking a pedestrian that kills them, it is the "92 feet." One of the many gifts created by my living through an incident which logically should have killed me, is that all expectations of what I might achieve in life were removed. My miraculous recovery was all that those who loved me could ask for. I attempted to continue my education but when I tried to read I experienced double vision. This condition eventually resolved itself. Another gift was the elimination of conscious fear. My grandmother died when I was almost six years-old. Seeing her in her coffin and the burial process, created an overwhelming fear of death in me, when I allowed myself to think about it. I have been told that when they put the cover on the coffin I became very upset and said "if they put the top on grandma, she won't be able to go to heaven." On my sixth birthday my sister, Sandra and I were placed in a Catholic orphanage. Our mother had suffered a nervous breakdown due to "Catholic guilt" regarding the death of her mother. Our father's mother was unwilling to care for us and I believe our father was unable to. My fear led me to all spend my spare time in the Chapel. This made me very popular with the nuns. They did not know I was really more afraid than devoted. I do not recall feeling the abandonment I must have felt on some levels. Having been blessed with a perfect Mommy and Daddy for the first five years of my life had created a remarkably resilient child in me. I was and am a natural optimistic and even at age six I was pretty good at "how to's." (how to turn a negative to a positive). I found many things at the orphanage that I really enjoyed. For instance, on Sunday, before Mass, the older girls at the orphanage would braid ribbons in my hair. That was really fun. I don't recall the nuns separating me and my sister. Or the nuns being cruel to my sister which I now know occurred. As soon as Mommy got out of the hospital she came to see Sandra and me. We were so happy to see Mommy who had suddenly evaporated from our lives months before. Mommy brought two enormous hat boxes with her, each box held a light brown cuddly stuffed doggie, one for me and one for Sandra. I do not recall how long it was before we were allowed to go home. Because of a difficult childhood there are few instances I remember vividly, seeing, hugging and kissing Mommy is one memory I do clearly recall. After my accident I forgot what fear felt like. My near death experience taught me to "Trust the Process" on an unconscious level. My accident was a "hit and run." One of my witnesses, Mr. Twitchel was a police radio repairman and he reported the accident to the police and Mr. Schwartz was arrested and prosecuted. At trial Schwartz said he thought a bird had hit his windshield and the court believed him. When I was an infant my father's nickname for me was "Birdie." I might have been entitled to a large amount of money to compensate me for my injuries in that Schwartz was a wealthy man. My parents hired an incompetent attorney to represent me and I received only $15,000.00 in settlement. At the time I understood if I had died or not recovered as well as I had, no amount of money could have compensated me nor my family for the loss. I did not know what stress was or even why people went on vacation until shortly after I married Mitch on May 17, 1984 and entered the real world. Through a sequence of events, I became his legal secretary. Shortly after we married I delivered a computer and printer to Mitch's office when he was firing his secretary. I asked Mitch if I could be his secretary. He told me I would be allowed to answer the telephone until he could hire a qualified legal secretary. Somehow I learned the job and I was able to spend most of my time with my favorite person, Mitch. My biggest handicap was my inability to type. Any document was typed only once on a computer. I created forms which made me more efficient. This was my first "real" job. I had been a model and actress without any real ambition. I recall meeting an Paramount Studios Executive when I was about 20 who asked me if I could act. My reply was "Act like what?" The brain damage I had incurred led me to believed I was unable to memorize lines for an important role in a television or a movie production. I belonged to the Screen Actors and Screen Extras Guilds. I worked mostly as an extra-player and occasionally had small speaking rolls. I worked several months of the year, collected unemployment and worked only to take time off. Over the years I had known many attorneys and fidelity was not their forte. Mitch certainly would have faced considerable difficulty persuading me he was working all night with his secretary, the first time we "pulled an all nighter," in preparation for a trial. My experience as an actress was useful that night. I realized I was inside, in comfortable clothes and warm. Unlike my previous career while working "night shots." Night scenes begin filming at dusk and continued until dawn. Most of the night work I engaged in, was while being dressed in Summer wardrobe. I was only able to put a coat on in between "shots" or while eating the catered meal. Working all night under these conditions was a breeze. I had no trouble driving to court and filing the papers we had prepared the next morning. Over the next nearly fifteen years Mitch was the source of my education as well as the elevation of my self esteem. Mitch believed I could do anything and with his support, I could. I have to laugh when I recall the numerous times I came running into the office, thrilled to report something I did not think I could accomplish which I had. Mitch, amused by my excitement would say "I knew you could do it." Sometimes I think he was surprised to but he never let me know that. Mitch and I had not been blessed with children. My knowledge of children consisted of an instinctual love for them and the fact that I use to be one. Although I have few memories of my childhood, my "inner child " is about five years old. She is one of my favorite parts of me. She is the source of my courage. She has no conscious understanding of what limitation is and only knows about the positive possibilities. She is like most young children, fearless. Mitch had been a journalist before entering law school and wrote clearly and brilliantly at a 10th grade level. Transcribing his dictation taught me the logical basis of civil law and how to articulate my thoughts through the written word. One of the most important things Mitch taught me was to create a record. I am able to write this story because my files document events I do not have any recollection of. Mitch enlightened me as to the process and the thrill of winning on my ability. My physical appearance and extroverted personality were responsible for all of my previous victories. Because my parents were both well educated and articulate, I spoke correctly but had no clue regarding the written word. I had written poems during the fifteen years prior to meeting Mitch but that was different. I wrote several books of poetry, mostly poems to my lovers. These were attempts to persuade them to love me the way Mitch naturally did, unconditionally. During our marriage Mitch received two poems. The only thing I asked him to change about himself over the first twelve years of our marriage was the way he took his socks off before he placed them in the laundry. I made that request once. When I realized I was going to loose Mitch I learned what fear and "panic attacks" felt like. I had not realized the power of, nor the helplessness, fear creates. Without my ability to regularly workout at a health club I might not have overcome fear as well as I have. During the Screen Actors Guild strike in 1980 a friend bought me a membership to a local health club. During the strike I had no money, nothing to do and was in a negative romantic relationship. The health club membership saved my sanity in 1980. I had not been athletically inclined. The only exercise I had engaged in was long walks and dancing at clubs. Working out provided a physical release of my frustration and I always felt "brand new" leaving the club. Prior to 1996 I believed my problems were not significant enough to bother God with. I prayed to Saint Anthony for any thing I needed and to Saint Christopher to keep me safe while driving. When my circumstances changed, I would say to God "I am leaving this in your hands" and go to the health club. When I came home everything was fine and I felt relaxed and more capable of dealing with my situation. In August of 1996 one of Mitch's clients, Dr. Peter Evans gave me the money to purchase the book "You Can Heal Your Life" by Louise Hay. Her concepts made sense to me and her book became my Bible over the next two years. Taking responsibility for my plight was powerful. Having created or attracted the difficulties in or to my life, allowed me to believe that by changing my perspective I could eliminate them. I had always been the most positive person I have known. Change was a natural process for me. Losing Mitch was not a natural nor an easy change. In 1997 and 1998 physically releasing my anger literally saved my life, not necessarily my sanity. I recall one particular night when I was on the stepmaster for two and a half hours. I ran twenty-six miles before being relieved of my anger. The rule became when I was frustrated or angry to get on the stepmaster and not get off until I was a "nice person." After Mitch died I spent several months closing his law practice and was evicted from our home. Mitch's Memorial was the last contact I had with his family as well as all but three of our friends and one client. Now I understand this abandonment was necessary for my spiritual growth. I had no one to talk to other than God. I prayed for the answers and direction. I read and re-read many self-help books written by Emmet Fox and Shakti Gawain which lead me to understand "Trusting the Process" was my only course. I had no family other than my father, Mac, who had not spoken to me for many years. When I telephoned him he hung up on me. He told my cousin, Joanne who I have met only once, I called him. Joanne told him to return my call and he did. We began resuming our relationship which had been a very close one before I married. Mac was unable to share his daughters with their husbands. He was the direct cause of my sister's divorce from her first husband. Her marriage had been a troubled one but Mac created the final split. In 1984 I was forced to choose between Mac and Mitch. I made the difficult but natural choice of the future over the past. When I went to Mac's apartment it took less than a fast minute for us to recapture our love for each other. After I closed Mitch's law office I began addressing some of Mac's business difficulties. I intentionally kept myself too busy to think or feel. I was forced to write many letters which served later as a reliable record of events which I have no recollection of whatsoever. During the eviction process I required tedious work to ward off fear. I did Mac's 1998 Tax Returns. He was delighted when he received a tax refund of a little over $500.00. Our cat population had been dramatically reduced. Suzie was hit by a car and Cinnamon had disappeared. There were coyotes in the hills where we lived but I chose to believe Cinnamon had found a new home up the hill where some nice lady was feeding him chicken breasts. On an evening in April upon returning from the health club I learned Bozo had passed away. Bozo was my first Kitten. He was twenty-six years old. He had been feeble for some time but did not appear to be in any discomfort. Until the end he spontaneously purred louder than any other member of the Lane Pride. In January of 1998 after we conceived the idea for Performing Arts For Children I wrote my friend, Hillary Rodham Clinton, addressing the concept. My letter reached her desk about the time of the Monica Lewensky matter. In March of 1999 I wrote Mrs. Clinton another letter informing her of my changed circumstances enclosing the original letter on the subject. I told Mrs. Clinton "I had an office, office equipment and a great idea for a nonprofit organization" and asked for her help. On July 17th the day I was moving my possessions from our home into a double garage I received a letter from Richard Woodruff, Director, Office of Congressional and White House Liaison in response to my March 25th letter to Mrs. Clinton. Mr. Woodruff enclosed the "NEA 2000; Applications Guidelines; Grants and Organizations FY2000" and the names and telephone numbers of several organizations which he thought would assist me in creating a nonprofit organization whose purpose was to expose young children to the performing arts. That night I packed a few clothes, placed Kitty-Face Captain Courageous, BBQ and Sargent Pepper in cat carriers and we moved into Mac's one bedroom apartment in Santa Monica. BBQ, the $80,000 cat was not happy with the accommodations Mac was providing and refused to come in a few nights after our move. He showed up the next day displaying his new green collar, letting me know he was alright. After being our cat for thirteen years, he had found a more suitable home. BBQ was a very demanding cat. His original name was the Bad Black One (BBO). One day when Mitch was barbequing he thought if we put a line through the O it might inspire better behavior and he became BBQ. His personality was not changed by his new name but Mitch and I laughed and enjoyed the folly of the threat. BBQ was the $80,000 cat in that he was what Mitch received along with a $500.00 retainer for his legal representation of a client in his divorce, child custody War. BBQ was a reminder of why Mitch never practiced family law again. His only prior experience with family law was when he served as legal counsel for Merv Griffin in a divorce proceeding. That divorce involved only money, not anything as important as children. Several blocks from Mac's apartment the health club I belonged to had a gym. Working out regularly kept me somewhat grounded. Before going to the health club I would tell Captain and Pepper to take care of Grandpa Mac. When I arrived home I would find Mac asleep in his favorite chair with a sleeping cat on each knee. |
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