Tuesday, April 28, 2009

forever golden

It’s taken almost 3 days for me to finally be able to talk about it.

Bea Arthur is dead.

My father was the one who broke it to me. “Tarryn, I have some bad news . . . mom doesn’t think I should tell you this now and spoil your Saturday night – but I want you to hear it from a loved one and not a stranger. Bea Arthur has gone to that big retirement community in the sky.”

Why, God?! First Sophia, now Dorothy?! It’s like you’re pecking off the Golden Girls in order of my favorites. Betty White, watch out!!

Oh Bea Arthur – how did I love thee? Let me count the ways. From your giant, linebacker-esque shoulder-pads, to your deadpan, manly voice . . . you were not afraid to be dude-ish and hilarious. You made sarcasm and “not-beautiful-ness” kinda hot. And of all the Golden Girls, you were the one who got married during the series finale. That’s right, Blanche – you can suck it!

On my last day at my old barista gig, I took a Sharpie into the women’s bathroom and wrote “Bea Arthur Slept Here” on the wall of my favorite napping stall. I hope that message is still there.

Bea, I hope you and Estelle Getty are yukking it up somewhere right now. And if swine flu has its way, I might be joining you soon enough -- save me a slice of cheesecake!