Yesterday, two icons from my childhood passed on. No, I am not speaking of Melissa Gilbert or Kim Richards from the original Escape To Witch Mountain. I am also not referring to Grizzly Adams or Polly Holiday, Flo to her friends. And do not be concerned because I am also NOT talking about Lindsay Wagner, Sean Cassidy, Kristy McNichol, Leif Garrett, Mr. Whipple, Orville Redenbacher (already deceased), Rerun from What’s Happening or Mikey from the Life cereal commercials. Contrary to popular opinion, he did not die of a POP Rocks+Coca Cola overdose. Not to worry. Tatum O’Neil is surprisingly still alive, as is Steven Tyler, Steve Miller, Donna Summer, Eddie Money, Keith Richards, Penny Marshall, Ben Gazzara and Abe Vigoda. Lauren Tewes has not jumped ship yet, Adam Rich and Willie Ames are still hanging on, while Lance Kerwin, my James at 15, is still going strong with the help of Jesus Christ and multiple stints in rehab. I am not even suggesting Robbie Benson is gone, and Nancy McKeon continues to be Jo in my heart, while still breathing and playing women in their late forties on cable. And my dear Molly Ringwald is alive and well and apparently now very French and very chunky. Last I heard from our precious Charlene Tilton, she was still clutching onto her super, blond tresses and Abdominizer. Olivia Newton-John, Joyce DeWitt, John Boy, Carl Weathers and Adam West are doing their best to keep it together. And, Burt Reynolds and his rug and Loni Anderson and her boobs have not evaporated, although their marriage did, long ago.
But Michael and Farrah are gone now and I must bid a fond farewell to the gloved one and hottest angel ever. You both made me feel inadequate and under developed but I always loved you anyway.
P.S. Right before posting this piece, I asked my husband Dave who his top three 70’s icons were. He told me in this order, without hesitation, Richard Mulligan from Soap, Benny Hill and Gene Simmons. He grew up with a color television. I, clearly, did not.