The world is a bit dimmer. Peggy Lipton died a few days ago, May 11, at age 72, and now Doris Day on May 13, at age 97.
I stumbled across Peggy Lipton writing about her daughter, Rashida Jones. I mentioned Peggy only as a footnote, as Rashida’s mother, but I soon learned of her dedicated following from her early years on the Mod Squad, which I never watched. I was too busy raising children in those years. The timing was off.
Now about Doris Day. There, the timing was right. She was important to me all through high school, as with everyone else in our class. The girls imitated her and the guys compared the girls with her. But now she was 97, far older than most of us will ever be. What did I expect? That she would go on forever? Yes. Doris Day would always be with us. That’s what we expect of icons.
She was often married, but that was a time when people married, rather than just live together. Still, she must have been difficult to live with, but I can’t understand why.
There is nothing more to say. She was obviously blond (classy blond, not trashy blond), pretty, perky, and talented. Her recording of “Magic” was long my favorite and still amazes me how she could hit those silky-smooth notes. I had the 45 rpm record with the big hole. Listening to it, I could imagine her standing in the sound-proof booth, singing into the old-fashioned microphone.
It is said she died of pneumonia, although it really doesn’t matter at age 97. It is also said her memory had failed her and she did not even appear at her last birthday party. The Doris Day I knew had already gone.
But, I did want to say something to mark her physical passing, someone who was so important to my growing up. Someday, sooner rather than later, I’ll pass, too, and her passing will make my transition easier. I will even look forward (a little) to experiencing what she has experienced (just not yet).
P.S. Now, just today, Tim Conway died. They say he was just as nice offstage as on. His character Mr. Tudball on the Carol Burnett Show was my favorite. I once had a boss just like him. Or was my boss like Miss Wiggins? Perhaps a little of both.
I understand Tim Conway suffered from dementia in his later years. Does dementia get us all eventually? Depressing!