“I will never be able to marry Peter Tork now,” were the words that climbed out of my brain and through the process of thought.
Why did I think that? I am a 62 year old woman now. Those are the thoughts of the sweet pre-teen, as she teeny-bopped her way into the world to become the teen, and a child with lights in her eyes, and hope in her heart.
The truth is, I’m really not as old as I look. I’m still 13. I’m still 14. I still have those wishful thoughts, the brightness in my mind’s eye, of a life that is idealistic and full of hope.
The days of youth–the crush on the latest star of television, watching The Dating Game, The Newlywed Game, all with dreams in our eyes. The beautiful face of youth, the beehive hairdo and the thick eyelashes only made by Maybelline or Max Factor.
Songs that brought us daydreams by The Seekers, The Beach Boys, The Everly Brothers. Ryan O’Neal and Ali McGraw’s eternal vow that Love means you never have to say you’re sorry.
We all were going to go to California and walk the streets of San Francisco. Become a beach baby and, like Annette Funicello, have our Frankie fall in love with us.
The young girls’ dream. Of convertibles, sunshine, movie stars, and living happily ever after.
Well, I have made to the living and the happily ever after is right where it’s at, even though I still have my young girl’s dream.