Crushin’ It

Most of my Twitter activity consists of making what I think are obvious comments to Congress that I am sure no Congress member on either side of the aisle has ever seen, because, well, algorithms, right?

Still, I hope something I say sways a mind here or there, so I continue to #Resist my little heart out.

Every once in awhile, I give in on Twitter and watch the cats being hysterical videos, or answer questions about the color you are currently wearing and what you last ate equals your band name. That would be Hot Pink Burger, thank you.

Today, John Pavlovitz asked about first celebrity crushes. Well, I kind of remember Elvis performing for the first time on the Ed Sullivan show, but I was only three, so that couldn’t really be it.

Ah, but I do very much remember the Fab Four’s first Sullivan gig, most especially Paul McCartney. My 10-year-old heart beat only for him.

At recess, my friends and I would play we were the Beatles’ girlfriends. Carol Brandenburg somehow always insisted she be Paul’s and got her way; just like she got my new doll the day my parents stopped at her house to visit. She wouldn’t stop screaming as we were leaving until they gave my doll to her. Don’t even get me started about our sandbox fight over Kenny Sanders in the second grade.

Paul was not easily replaced in my heart, though by junior high, my two-year crush on the very real Jimmy Crowl did dim Paul’s glow a bit. But just like Paul, Jimmy Crowl was destined never to be my boyfriend. My loss felt more greatly than his, I’m sure.

By the time I turned 16, I was deeply into Clint Eastwood. Too young for him in his “Rawhide” years, Clint was my celebrity crush of choice at the 60’s end. It didn’t last long – his spaghetti westerns, “Play Misty for Me,” “ The Beguiled.” Because I quickly became less than beguiled by Clint when a new leading man fell asleep at the bar wearing his Navy whites.

For the rest of the 70s, there was only one celebrity on whom I could crush in the darkened theaters where I spent my Saturdays: Redford. Robert Redford.

It didn’t matter the role. For me he was Hubble, in a different story, with a different name. But Hubble, always Hubble.

While Redford stayed on my crush radar for many years, from 1980-88 there was only one celebrity mustache that tickled my fancy. Do I even have to name the TV show? Maybe I should challenge you to investigate this not very private celebrity crush I held.

Everyone who knew me then knew I was wild about Tom Selleck. And on my first trip to Hawaii in the mid-80s, I missed becoming his wife by only 20 minutes. I think I will let that one sit and make y’all wonder: whaaat? 😳

All with Tom, however, was not lost. As a bon voyage gift, some friends gave me a night shirt with his face plastered on it. To this day I delight in saying I slept with Tom Selleck when I was in Hawaii. (Sorry my son; your mother is embarrassing, I know.) 🤦🏼‍♀️

Meanwhile, most of the Brat Packers left much to be desired, with the exception of James Spader. And I could only allow myself to crush on him because of that thing he had with Susan Sarandon in “White Palace.” He was just so yummy and sweet faced in those days, even when he played the meanest roles.

As the 80s melted into the 90s ( and me my 40s), my celebrity crushes came fewer and farther between. Of course Patrick Swayze. How could one not crush on a guy who can look and dance like that. I mean, seriously, hellooo…🙄 Not to mention all those shirtless scenes in “Road House.” ( Notice I am not mentioning his buck naked one. Am trying to keep this fairly PG-13.)

But really, in the 90s and 2000s, I crushed on no one actor in particular. I guess I was playing the field. In my dreams.

Today, at 66, I am a bit of a Benjamin Button when it comes to celebrity crushes. I am aging backwards in terms of actors who take my breath away merely by looking at them. If I had to pick just one, it would be Keanu Reeves. Too young for me when he started his excellent acting adventures, by the time he wooed Diane Keaton in “Something’s Gotta Give,” I was seriously in love and have remained so in both his current role as John Wick and in retrospect of some of his earlier roles. Keanu and cute James Spader in the same movie? A double feature.

On whom will I cast an eye when I am 75, or, God willing, 85? Who knows? But I am sure he will reliably be there. And when I first see him, I will crush it.

In the end, however, there is only one actor in one role for whom I have always looked for a real-life counterpart: Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch in “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

I have yet to find that man. I guess I will have to settle for the film. I’m crushed. 😢



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