This past week I lost the third beauty of my raging testosterone youth, Elizabeth Taylor,who died at age 79 of congestive heart failure. The other two beauties, also pictured above who preceded Elizabeth in death were, Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell. Marilyn died prematurely in 1962 at age 36 to an accidental overdose of prescription barbiturates. Jane died on February 28 of this year at the age of 89 of natural causes. All three were mythical goddesses for me...a young scrawny kid dreaming about what life is like beyond the banks of the muddy Mississippi. Thinking about these women in my youth gave my dreams alot of amperage.
First of all, I thought Marilyn was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen (before Marian). God could not have created a more comely woman. Her untimely death shocked me. I remember the day vividly when Marilyn died. My father, Jim, my mother, Ruth, both devout Catholics, a couple of my siblings and I were on the way to visit the Shrine of Our Lady of the Snows in Belleville, Illinois, on that fateful Sunday August morning. (How's that for an oxymoron...snows in August and a shrine in Belleville. But that's what it is. Almost million people a year visit this shrine.) And a CBS bulletin came over the car radio that Marilyn had died in Los Angeles. All of us were stunned by the news. Instantly, I thought of her cutesy cowgirl role in River of No Return with Robert Mitchum. I asked my Dad, "how can we go to the Shrine on such sad news?" He said, "she'll need our prayers to get into heaven." But I said, "we're all sinners, aren't we?" We continued on to Belleville...in silence.
The news of Jane's death was not as shocking as Marilyn's was because of Jane's mature age. But I was saddened nonetheless. Frankly, she was a B-movie type actress. Montana Belle and The Outlaw did not win any Oscars. But boy was she a doll and she had every GI in WWII drooling. Whenever I thought of Jane Russell I thought in twos. Her abundant shelf of a bosom were "bs" perfect, "before silicone." Her lips were as delicious as a double scoop of peach ice cream. Her hourglass figure made you forget about the hour, minute and the second. Amidst all her native beauty, Jane had another side to her, a side few knew about. She was a devout Christian who gave her heart to the Lord daily and her body to Hollywood.
The third goddess, Elizabeth, left us this week past. Another beauty with violet eyes, curves beyond measure, and a face and body made for Rubens paintbrush. When I think of Elizabeth I think of one role of her many superb acting roles. Her screen role as the gorgeous Maggie the Cat in Tennessee Williams Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Paul Newman as the broken and drunken Brick was amazing. In the movie, Maggie pleads with an angry Brick about making love to her like before, she says, "I feel like a cat on a hot tin roof." Brick coldly rejects her love and declares, "then jump off the roof." The sexual tension inside that room between Elizabeth/Maggie and Brick was palpable. She made every scene she was in mesmerizing. She was a superb actress. A rare and talented beauty. A tortured soul. A kind, charitable and lovable person. All she wanted, other than the largest jewels in the world, was "someone to love".
In my mind, these three women will always have a special place at the table of my mental wanderings. They all may be gone from this world but will never be forgotten while I'm alive.
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