My third reason for writing this is to set the record straight.
I have done some reading on the subject of Neve growing up. Most of what I have read was gleaned from the web. There are two unauthorized biographies out there. I’ve read only the first chapter of the one by Elina Furman and I have not seen the other one.
These biographies, being unauthorized, are written by authors that probably don’t know her from a hole in the ground. The individual facts may have been taken from things she said in interviews, so I assume they are true. I do not remember any of our teachers selling cookies on Valentine’s Day though. Maybe I was sick from school that day, or maybe I just don’t remember, but I have a hard time believing I missed Neve on a Valentine’s Day.
What troubles me most is reading all this ‘woe is me’ bullshit. Everything out there seems to portray this girl as someone nobody loved, nobody cared about, and she was an ugly duckling. Neve Campbell was an ugly duckling is about as true as Hillary Clinton dodging sniper fire in Bosnia.
I still remember the day our teacher made a big deal in front of the class about Neve being in a production of the Nutcracker. I never saw that, but I assume she was not on stage with a bag over her head. Ugly girls on a stage are not good for ticket sales even in a country as polite as Canada.
I cannot understand why there seems to be this vested interest in describing her childhood as completely miserable. Listening to this girl’s early years portrayed as some absolutely perfect childhood tragedy is not just upsetting, it is personally insulting. And when I combine that with the fact that this woman I e-mailed in February 2008 said, ‘Neve doesn’t remember any of it’ I cannot help but think, “Why am I not surprised?”
Because if Neve did remember me she would have to admit that someone did love her, that someone did care about her, that someone did go to bat for her when bad things happened in school and no she was never an ugly duckling. That girl was beautiful, with a pretty face and the perfect body of a ballerina.
I was not the only one noticing either. I vividly remember Dykeman commenting that if she looks like this now, imagine when she turns 18. I vividly remember Maltby commenting that she was playboy material. There was a guy in our class that was almost prepared to die a horrible death rather than let go of a picture of our class vixen. All of that happened as the result of the fiasco on picture day.
And Neve was not the only one getting her little heart broken. She was breaking hearts just as bad. How many ten-year-old boys have been so heart broken over a girl they dropped French Immersion and transferred out of grade school? Not many I bet.
And Neve was not the only one on the outside looking in, wishing she could hang with the cool kids. There were also people who were a part of Neve’s life that wanted to remain a part of her life, but she hauled off and blew them out of her world no mercy. She was the one throwing up barriers and driving people away.
She was relentless when she did it too. She drove people out until there was nobody left, until she was in a hospital alone and depressed. Her brother is calling people on her behalf to come visit her and they wouldn’t even come. If she had some sad times in her teenage years, she can’t blame the world.
I loved you Neve. I wanted to be there!
I have done some reading on the subject of Neve growing up. Most of what I have read was gleaned from the web. There are two unauthorized biographies out there. I’ve read only the first chapter of the one by Elina Furman and I have not seen the other one.
These biographies, being unauthorized, are written by authors that probably don’t know her from a hole in the ground. The individual facts may have been taken from things she said in interviews, so I assume they are true. I do not remember any of our teachers selling cookies on Valentine’s Day though. Maybe I was sick from school that day, or maybe I just don’t remember, but I have a hard time believing I missed Neve on a Valentine’s Day.
What troubles me most is reading all this ‘woe is me’ bullshit. Everything out there seems to portray this girl as someone nobody loved, nobody cared about, and she was an ugly duckling. Neve Campbell was an ugly duckling is about as true as Hillary Clinton dodging sniper fire in Bosnia.
I still remember the day our teacher made a big deal in front of the class about Neve being in a production of the Nutcracker. I never saw that, but I assume she was not on stage with a bag over her head. Ugly girls on a stage are not good for ticket sales even in a country as polite as Canada.
I cannot understand why there seems to be this vested interest in describing her childhood as completely miserable. Listening to this girl’s early years portrayed as some absolutely perfect childhood tragedy is not just upsetting, it is personally insulting. And when I combine that with the fact that this woman I e-mailed in February 2008 said, ‘Neve doesn’t remember any of it’ I cannot help but think, “Why am I not surprised?”
Because if Neve did remember me she would have to admit that someone did love her, that someone did care about her, that someone did go to bat for her when bad things happened in school and no she was never an ugly duckling. That girl was beautiful, with a pretty face and the perfect body of a ballerina.
I was not the only one noticing either. I vividly remember Dykeman commenting that if she looks like this now, imagine when she turns 18. I vividly remember Maltby commenting that she was playboy material. There was a guy in our class that was almost prepared to die a horrible death rather than let go of a picture of our class vixen. All of that happened as the result of the fiasco on picture day.
And Neve was not the only one getting her little heart broken. She was breaking hearts just as bad. How many ten-year-old boys have been so heart broken over a girl they dropped French Immersion and transferred out of grade school? Not many I bet.
And Neve was not the only one on the outside looking in, wishing she could hang with the cool kids. There were also people who were a part of Neve’s life that wanted to remain a part of her life, but she hauled off and blew them out of her world no mercy. She was the one throwing up barriers and driving people away.
She was relentless when she did it too. She drove people out until there was nobody left, until she was in a hospital alone and depressed. Her brother is calling people on her behalf to come visit her and they wouldn’t even come. If she had some sad times in her teenage years, she can’t blame the world.
I loved you Neve. I wanted to be there!
