Betty Bacall

It's Independence Day and I am spending it out of the sweltering heat and indoors. I'm catching up on my Netflix (up next is An Education followed by Broken Embraces) and starting another book, By Myself by Lauren Bacall. I'm working my way backwards; last summer I read (and adored) Now. I've had Ms. Bacall's first book since I was a teenager, a gift of my great aunt, but I've just never gotten around to reading it.

As a grade schooler, when all the other kids were reading about and lusting after Kirk Cameron, I was following all the stars from Hollywood's Golden Age of Cinema. Ms. Bacall stood out from all the others and was always someone to admire. She came across as being vulnerable without being fragile. She was tough, but real, and of all those stars that I daydreamed of meeting (most of whom were long gone, but the imagination of a ten year old far transcends the barriers of reality), Ms. Bacall was one that I liked to think of having hot cocoa with and being the very best of friends. Even now, I'd love to step outside and share a smoke break with her, but alas, reality has set in with age and I know that shall never be (still fun to imagine, though...).

Ms. Bacall's courage, elegance, beauty, warmth, and sophistication are surpassed only by my grandmother, Irma, but surpassed only slightly. Please excuse me for now, I have some reading to catch up on. Ciao until next time, dear reader, and take care.