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I was there the night John Lennon was shot, three blocks away. It left a lasting impression on me.

I performed after 9/11 for relief workers down by Ground Zero. There were these men just coming back, and they were voraciously hungry. They were heroes, pulling rubble, and I was a new comic trying to go blue just so I could get some laughs.

My father ran a corner drug store where he worked night and day, seven days a week, until he died of a stroke. He literally worked himself to death.

I had a really good time in New Orleans, although I had some very tragic times in Baton Rouge. Some guys beat me up and threw my horn away. 'Cause I had a beard, then, and long hair like the Beatles.

I was a pizza delivery boy at the Pizza Oven in Canton. I wanted to get fired so bad, I actually wrecked the delivery car, but they wouldn't fire me because I was the only person they had working there.

After my husband John Lennon passed away, I tried to smile for my health.

A lot of the people I'd love to work with, like John Lennon, Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, aren't alive, unfortunately.

My father died in France, and my sisters and I went over with my mum to bring back his body. I remember going to the funeral parlour in France and being given a laminated menu of coffins, and thinking, surely there is an ice cream at the back of here!

I used to work in a funeral home to feel good about myself, just the fact that I was breathing.