Someone once said that what makes a memory great is a "rich imagination and a poor memory!" It works for me...

Today is our Very Camelot – and Good Looks don’t Hurt!

Someone one wisely said that what makes a memory great is a ”rich imagination and a poor memory!” How true . As humans we want our memories to be the way we want them to be and bring a smile to our face; to make us, once again, happy. You could say that we might even “manipulate” our memories, and that’s perfectly ok; they are our memories, after all!
The summer of ’75 certainly was the summer of my Camelot because all seemed absolutely perfect as a beautiful California girl in her early 20’s living in Santa Monica and dating the ultimate Prince, whom I had met while skiing the previous winter. This summer, on weekends, we sailed “26 miles across the sea” to Catalina, on his yacht, along with his two wonderful boys, Darren, six, and Mitchell eight. My Prince was divorced and had the most wonderful relationship with his beautiful ex-wife, a double for Elizabeth Taylor, whom I’d met once during my stint as a publicist for Lorimar Pictures. One big happy family…
I have no doubt, whatsoever, that this particular Camelot experience came about because of a God-given blessing with which I was born: exceptional good looks inherited by both my parents – and a “gift” much valued in, of all places, Los Angeles and Hollywood, the glamour capital of the world. There is no doubt that just this visual gift opened doors to me throughout my life and afforded opportunities that perhaps other mortals did not experience. But, please read on… this was a gift and blessing and my parents made sure I understood it, appreciated it and never exploited it.
My wise parents made sure I (and my oldest brother, a double for Brad Pitt) understood our gift and centered us in values that truly mattered: God, family, country, education – and, above all, a good heart. Looks come and go; values and a love of education and learning remain forever. I have certainly found this to be true .
So, I became a young woman, educated and professional (squeezing in Finishing School to “smooth out the rough edges” of a Tom Boy with four brothers). As a PR/media specialist with my own T.V. cable show in Santa Monica, I experienced a myriad opportunities both professional and personal that afforded me much joy – and cemented my skills through a lot of hard work. Yes, my looks helped a great deal, but I never relied on those alone (both parents sitting on my shoulders as reminders), but I can’t deny they helped – and hurt as well, because of the constant, natural jealousy from other women, which I completely understood. My folks and therapy helped with that issue – and I was wisely reminded “never, ever to toot my own horn.” I did my best and even played my looks down – never, ever exploiting them
Men always said to me that my attitude about my looks in a city like Los Angeles where beautiful women were a “dime a dozen,” was refreshing. And, yet, I know that my “Prince” whom I had met on the slopes fell in lust with my looks first before he fell in love with me as a person. I was not naïve; he routinely dated beautiful Hollywood actresses, including Racquel Welch. I never lost sight of that. And, yet, after dating him on and off for two years, never taking him seriously, he proposed marriage and I turned him down because much as I loved him as a person (and certainly his two boys), I was not in love with him as a man.
He truly was crushed and stated that he knew I never took him seriously because of his love for beauty but he was totally convinced that I was the only woman who did not care for him merely because of his wealth. He even suggested we marry and if, after a while I did not fall in love with him, we could divorce and I would be a very wealthy woman. The guy did love me, I guess, as did his ex-wife, Joyce, his mother and certainly the boys. But I didn’t love him that way.
Perhaps, down deep in my heart, I knew that the temptation for him of living in Tinseltown surrounding by physical and shallow beauty, being faithful would be impossible, though he vowed fidelity. I lived in Southern California all my life; I worked in the movie industry. It’s Hollywood, it just is: it’s all a movie!
I could never be bought, although my life, both professional was always surrounded by wealth; so my Prince was not my first rodeo in that regard. I’m just grateful for the memories and relish the picture of the boys on the yacht on a sunny day, me in my bikini and Darren brushing long hair…
Camelot was then, Camelot is now.