In 1949, when I was 2, my family moved from Yonkers, NY, to a development of brick houses in Elmont, a Long Island suburb of New York City. What I remember most about the house was the glider on our porch. I used to sit there evenings close to my father, Victor, as he talked about the moon and the stars. He taught me to dream big.
My father was an ironworker who eventually co-founded a construction business. My mother, Jeanette, was a stay-at-home mom who had been an operating-room nurse until my older brother, Jimmy, was born.
The sense of acting being teamwork was a mentality that I took from school: I studied with wonderful people, and I wanted them to be proud of me.
I was a shy little girl. Growing up, I was often content being alone in my room, making up stories, and acting out all the parts. I became so good at it that, with the door closed, my parents thought I had friends over.
I was nominated for a Daytime Emmy Award 19 times before I won. The first nine years, I heard someone else's name called; after that - I think it was a protective thing - I didn't hear whose name was called, but nobody was making eye contact with me, so I knew that it wasn't mine.
I grew up loving Broadway musicals. I'd put on my parents' cast albums and stand on the stool and sing in the mirror.
You don't have to get doughty or, suddenly, because you have a new label on you, 'Oh, I'm 50, so therefore, I have to be a certain thing.' Follow your heart and look at your rear view as well as your front view!
I married somebody who is very secure. He's been in my corner from the time we met, and we grew in this together.
If your skin looks okay today, and you take care of it, there's a good chance it's going to look good tomorrow.