Remembering Mary

marytylermoore_creditpbsI think I always wanted to be Mary Tyler Moore . . . throwing my fuzzy, striped wool cap up in the air in the middle of that cold, potential-filled Minneapolis intersection at Nicollet Mall.

That was really my life plan ― unconsciously maybe. I yearned to be a sassy, single career woman on my own, working for my own version of Mr. Grant at a TV station ― and living in a cozy, split-level, efficiency apartment in the land of 10,000 lakes. I actually painted my room yellow and made my own curtains out of sunny yellow-checked bed sheets I bought at Sanger Harris when I was 13. Eventually, I even chose an internship at the Minneapple’s Guthrie Theatre ― ostensibly as part of my graduate arts administration program, but it was probably more about my pursuit of my Mary myth. Unfortunately, my Cold War-era company apartment on Loring Park had more cinder blocks and roaches than Victorian panache, but I did love the Twin Cities.

It’s amazing how seventies television molded me. It taught me that if I had yellow shag carpeting, a really skinny chest of drawers, a self-effacing smile ― and a neurotic, wise-cracking neighbor, things might work out after all. And I tried to work that out for a long time. Mary was my aspiration and, at times, my fragile identity.

I did enjoy countless hours of quality time with my CBS gang. I remember Archie Bunker, Mary Richards, Bob Newhart and Carol Burnett typically occupying my Saturday nights as a pre-teen ― in front of that enormous, fake-wood RCA console in the corner of the living room. I often curled up on my parents’ sea foam green sectional― with a whole box of Reese’s mini-peanut butter cups, a package of Oreo cookies and an ice-cold Tab. Ah, those were the days.

So now, look at me ― I am that single gal, but alas, I’m on the other side of divorce with two sons who are practically adults. I’m back in Dallas, and I finally sold off that skinny, yellow lingerie chest in a garage sale for $15. Admittedly, I had been lugging it around for years and years. I finally emptied the drawers, but I think there was still some junk inside.

Thank you, Mary, for being there all those years. Thank you for serving as role model for me and so many young women who ultimately found strength in themselves. Love is all around, no need to waste it. Will miss you.                                                                                             Photo Credit: PBS.org

 

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