on Rue

As also published on Facebook.

As a girl, I wanted to be like Blanche Devereaux when I grew up, before I fully comprehended what that meant. I would do what my Mom called the “Blanche Walk” through our house: shoulders back, hips in full swing, sashaying like an alleycat in heat.  I wrapped floral sheets around myself, spoke in a ridiculous Southern accent, and used the word “lanai” in everday speech, though I was only vaguely aware that it was some sort of architectural feature that our house may or may not have possessed.

As a grown woman, I’m not sure my aspirations have much changed.

Rest in peace to the incomparable Rue McClanahan.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: