Just 'Annette' - Remembering Our Favorite 'Mouseketeer'

For those of a certain generation (late 1950s to mid 60s), the passing of Annette Funicello is a cause for pause. 

Even though I never met Annette, it seems as though she has always been a part of my life for as far back as I can remember. You never even needed to include her last name – she was just “Annette”!

Her passing was not unexpected. After all, for some 25 years she has suffered the ravages of an insidious disease, multiple sclerosis, handling it with the same grace and dignity that she has handled her entire life. There were no scandals around Annette. She learned how to deal with life from a loving family and from Walt Disney, himself, someone she always referred to as “Mr. Disney”.

I was barely walking when “The Mickey Mouse Club” began airing but I can distinctly remember being glued to the set each day and learning the names of all the “Mouseketeers.” It seemed just a part of normal life. Somehow, Annette stood out for her obvious delight and joy in being a part of this talented group. Even as a barely teenage girl, she had a sparkle that made you genuinely care and want to see more of her.

In the years that followed there were television appearances including those on the “Wonderful World of Color.” There were big screen movies and I don’t know anyone who didn’t reassess their opinion of arithmetic after hearing Annette perform, “I Can’t Do that Sum” in Disney’s “Babes in Toyland.”

There were hit records that followed and then came the popular series of “Beach Party” films at American International with Frankie Avalon.

While I didn’t see any of the series, there was comfort each time the Concord Drive-In Theatre announced the latest in the seemingly endless series of surf and sand epics. There was Annette’s name up on the outdoor marquee and all seemed right with the world.

Annette never really went away. In the past 35 years or more, I have never stood in the peanut butter aisle of a grocery store without thinking of Annette who cheerfully convinced us all that Skippy was the only brand we needed on our shelves.  Whenever I strayed and tried another brand, I actually felt a bit guilty.

I did go to see “Back to the Beach,” the good natured reunion of Annette and Frankie that came out in the latter 80s. At 44, Annette looked pretty much the same and I was grateful that some things in life didn’t seem to change.

Unfortunately they do because already Annette’s life was being impacted by the early stages of MS.

When she came forward several years later, with the same honesty that had been an integral part of her life, to talk about her health issues, there wasn’t a trace of self-pity or “why me?”  Instead Annette started a fund for Neurological Disorders and became an active spokesperson for MS, later writing her autobiography and showing, in her 50s, the same spark and fire in her eyes, even as her body began to betray her.

Annette can rest knowing that she used her final years to set an example of dignity, class and courage under horrific conditions.

She leaves those of us for whom she has been a part of our life with great memories, for wearing her "Mouse Ears" better than anyone else. She also accomplished much and earned our admiration for her attitude of never giving up.  I think Mr. Disney would be very proud.