One of my favourite First Person features (a piece we do in Weekend Post where the subject narrates the story) was with Pamela Anderson. She called me from her Malibu home with her dogs hanging out with her on the bed. She was lovely and articulate. I didn’t have to re-ask any questions or prompt her for many more details. That woman can tell her own story.
Here’s her interview:
When I was little, I was always an activist. I used to roll nickels and quarters and pennies, whatever I had and give them to animal shelters. I did lemonade stands.
My dad wasn’t really a big hunter but we lived off venison and moose meat. I remember not liking the taste of it. In Ladysmith, B.C., it seemed to be part of the lifestyle. My dad didn’t like to hunt but he tells me now that it was something that everybody did.
One time, my dad told me, “Don’t go in the pump house.” So of course, the first thing that I did was gather my girlfriends and go straight for the pump house. I opened up the door and there was a dead deer hanging upside down with no head, dripping into a bucket of blood. I went into hysterics and I wouldn’t calm down until my dad convinced me that he would never ever hunt again, and his friends, too. That’s when I realized that I should speak my mind.