"The notion that such persons are gay of heart and carefree is curiously untrue. They lead, as a matter of fact, an existence of jumpiness and apprehension. They sit on the edge of the chair of Literature. In the house of Life they have the feeling that they have never taken off their overcoats."
- James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times

Friday, March 6, 2009

Man, that torks me off.

I think I've always been a little unique in what attracts me in a man. When I was three or four, I became mesmorized watching Harry Belafonte on TV. Don't get me wrong, Mr. Belafonte was (and probably still is) a gorgeous man. He just wasn't the right 'color' of gorgeousness for my WASP (dare I say racist?) family. I tried to understand what they were talking about, and thought I had the rules, and then Chubby Checkers came along, who was just cute as a button (to me). So I suffered through another round of, "oh, hell no," from Mom.

When the Beatles appeared on the scene, I think I actually heard my mom sigh with relief. They may had have long hair, but at least they were white. But while my girlfriends were swooning over Paul, with George and John coming in at close second/thirds, I was in love with Ringo.

That's right, the weird-looking guy with the goofy sense of humor. Even with white guys, I wasn't attracted to the traditionally cute ones.

The Beatles faded away as I became a preteen and the Monkees flew into my radar. All of my friends had posters of Davey Jones on their walls. But not me. No, I fancied Peter Tork, the one with the goofy personae. (I'm beginning to see a goofy pattern here, but I digress.)

I read today that Peter Tork has been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, Adenoid Cystic Carcinoma. They first discovered it as a growth on his tongue. According to his website, it's pretty curable, it hasn't spread, but he'll be going through surgery and radiation.

First of all, I can't imagine anything more painful than radiation in your tongue/mouth/throat area. 'Raw', 'burning', 'unable to eat' images come to mind. Second, it sounds like a particularly horrid thing to happen to a singer. I am just so sad about my former crush having to go through this, and wish him a speedy recovery. I'm also amazed that I can feel so intimately affected by someone I don't officially know. We've never met, and if we did, I'd probably channel my inner 13-year old and drift between insane gushing and dorky shyness.

So, my question of the day is, has a famous person's personal crisis ever affected you as if they were a close friend, or even family member? Go ahead and share. I won't tell anyone.

P.S. I wouldn't call my husband weird-looking, and he has a sense of humor, but it's not goofy. You will, however, notice a distinct trend in my attraction to him:

No comments:

Proud Member of ALA!

I support fair and equitable library access to ebooks and so should you.