I remember the day Marilyn Monroe died – strange though, since if you had asked me I would of said that she was before my time.
I must have been, well, hang on …… no….. it’s a memory from the swirling incertitude’s of my childhood, I’ll have to see what wikipedia says.
Hmm… it doesn’t mention my name directly but apparently I was 7 which would make it one among the tumble and tangled heap of “earliest’ memories along with Rosalind Wall - the next door neighbour - and her inflatable Yogi Bear punch bag.
The memory of Marilyn itself is imprecise, more a memory of sensations rather than facts.
I was aware that something mysterious had happened, that something bright and beautiful lay suddenly cold and unmoving in a bedroom far away with a cloud of questions hanging outside a closed door.
And - for some reason - the memory is associated with the front path of my grandma’s house; a path I can recreate in every imperfect detail as I swept the damm thing so many times in my formative years.
The association is not SO surprising as the house was shared with my Aunt who had a collection of Hollywood star and scandal gossip magazines, even though her own life – as far as I know – was as far from that world as her front garden in sub-suburban London could take her.
The seven year old me felt like I was on the edge of something I didn’t really understand, yet seemed to have something mixed into the obscurity of the facts that was exciting and interesting.
It was a temporary feeling that had no place in my scheme of things but which returned more and more a few years later until I was ready to confront them.
47 years later the newspapers write about her again and these revelations do little than increase the esteem that I have for her.
from the unpublished archives, bitsnbobs 2009
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7 comments:
Nothing re Marilyn, though it was a very enjoyable piece. Just wanted to say I'm glad to see the fish are still thriving. Love, Vicki
Just wondering -- it's April 8 and it's still the 'Mizzles of March'. March felt long enough without allowing it to swallow up a chunk of April.
Being an optimist I am truly hoping for an 'Auspicious, Amazing or 'Affectionate April', though even an 'Absurd April' would do. Somehow though, I think you've got something better yet to be unveiled.
No pressure.
Mx;-)
No Pressure!
No Pressure!
Blimey!
Ok, fir point, my mizzles of march is still up, good point, everyone's a critic, i know i know.
No Pressure!
So clearly i have no anything up my sleeve so what to do?
They missed you Vicki.
Not a critic -- a fan, albeit an (too) observant one.
April is looking pretty good there in the -- how did you describe it? the nowhere of the middle of nowhere.
Here, in the centre of the middle of way too much it is cold -- no early Spring this year. Everyone here is sick -- I had a virus last week, followed by the illness of our dog, Bailey, who had to spend a couple of days in hospital and finally, my son has a severe flu which kept him from school almost every day this week except today - he had to write a Science test.
Photos are beautiful. Perhaps a picture is worth a thousand words and April needs no further description?
Mx
The april sniffles?
Poor Bailey - (i wonder what his real name is?) -hospital! Not the vets? Emergency Ward 10?
It was 37 C degrees in the sun today, i'm thinking of saying i'm too hot!
37 degrees is a bit on the warm side. Luckily we balance it out here so that the earth won't burst into flames.
Bailey is a female -- half pomeranian, half American eskimo - will send photo separately. She was named by the person who gave her to us due to the colour of her coat which reminds one of Bailey's Irish Cream Whiskey.
I call her Bailey Wailey. Don't know what Emergency Ward 10 is but the vets couldn't help her so she had to be checked into Animal Hospital -- x-rays, blood tests, I.V. drip, ultrasound -- will I ever be able to retire? NO CHANCE! She is better now but still recovering.
I'm off to my dance class. Tonight we waltz ...
Mx
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