Today marks the fortyi-sixth anniversary of Marilyn Monroe's untimely death. It's not without some poignant irony that it also marks the eighteenth anniversary of the passing of my mother.
My mother was an extraordinary woman, capable of great love and compassion, and also capable of remarkable cruelty and pettiness. She really was a theatrical character out of a Tennesse Williams play: sometimes Blanche du Bois, other times Violet Venable; still others Maggie the Cat. As a young child, I adored her; as an adolescent I feared her; and it's only recently, as I look back on a life both incredibly full and sadly inhibited by her own fears and demons, that I can view my mom with some clarity and understanding.
I don't believe in "baring all" in public; not necessarily out of any embarassment or reticence, but in the interest of the good taste of discretion, and the feeling that most people aren't particularly interested in anyone else's neuroses. But I did want to pay some kind of public tribute to my mom, and Marilyn, whom she forbade me to read about or watch on TV. My mother, you see, had an almost paranoiac fear of sex and sexuality; I couldn't, at the time, reassure her that my intense worship of La Monroe had no basis in lust, but, even if I had, I doubt that her reaction would have been any more positive!
So, wherever you are now, Mom, I hope you're at peace with yourself. You always said that we were soul mates, and in many ways -- some which I'm amused by, others that I'm bemused by -- I realize that we really are two sides of the same coin. I love you. Maybe you're hanging out with Marilyn now, finding some common ground, and looking at me, saying, "The kid turned out all right, after all."
beautiful and poignant.
ReplyDelete(your thoughts...and MM too)
Thanks, Jason. Another story for another time: coming out to my dad, and his utter confusion over my adoration of Marilyn and other Hollywood Blondes (Jayne, Mamie, etc.). Explaining the concept of "gay camp" to one's father is a tricky business.
ReplyDeleteMarilyn's death is inexplicably tied to my mother, too. She was my first concept of a dead person, and when I saw her photo in a magazine as a child, I asked my mother who the beautiful lady was. "She's dead," said mother. "What's dead?"
ReplyDelete"Dead is when they put you in a box in the ground and worms eat your body."
I was so upset, I brought the magazine to bed with me and kept her under my pillow so worms wouldn't eat her.
Thank GOD for pharmaceuticals!
Ah...somehow...paradoxically... I'd think a love of the Hollywood blondes would be one of the few things the gays would have in common with heterosexual men.
ReplyDeleteCamp, however, like pornography or God is probably impossible to describe. You just know it when you see it.
May they both rest in peace...
ReplyDeleteDonna -- That's very sweet, in a black comedy way!
ReplyDeleteJason -- Oh, honey. After I came out, my teenage bedroom suddenly became plastered with posters of Marilyn, the SoloFlex guy, and various Tom Bianchis and Bruce Webers. I was like a tacky hairdresser from Bayonne!
Dray -- Thank you.