Mom, You're
Prettier than Lucy
by Bill Tope
Lucille Ball was
our household icon. She
was pretty and funny and clever; she was
everywhere: on TV, in the movies, the
newspapers and so on. We couldn't
get
enough of her.
As a redhead myself I naturally
gravitated
toward Lucy. In fact, I thought wistfully
that
a marriage between Lucy and popular
comedian Red Skelton, another redhead,
would produce the ideal parents. I
was
eight years old.
So one night, when we were in the
basement
watching television, Mom tossed me the
latest TV Guide, which featured on its
cover a photo of Lucille Ball. "She's
pretty,
isn't she?" she asked me. i surveyed
the
photo critically, then issued my opinion.
"Mom, you're prettier than Lucy,"
I said quite
honestly. She looked up from her
crocheting,
startled. "Me?" she
squeaked, unbelieving.
"Sure," I reiterated
determinedly, "you're lots
prettier than Lucy." I glanced at
her,
wondering why she was so surprised.
"Do you
really mean that?" she asked softly.
I told her
I did. I'd no idea I had rendered
such a
profound compliment.
I guess it was a combination of things
that made
me feel that way: a son's love, a
positive, nurturing
role model, and she was, in fact, quite
pretty. Mom
said nothing more, but looked back down
at her
needlework, a little smile playing on her
lips. |
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