Brenda Starr and Me

Brenda Starr and I go way back. I knew just enough about her by December, 1961, to know I wanted to be her when I grew up. I wanted the career in writing, the fabulous clothes, the glamorous bedroom, the amazing long, red, flowing hair, and the cleavage.

Sure, she had a wacky dysfunctional relationship with a guy named Basil, but I hoped they had some semblance of a spiritual connection, since his last name was St. John. A name like that should be able to cover a lot of sins, don't you think?

As it turned out, he often disappeared for years at a time into some distant jungle, where he was forced to develop a rare serum from an exotic breed of orchid in order to prolong his own otherwise useless life.

Then he'd ingest or inject the serum, and use the cubits that had been added to his miserable existence to trek back to the big city, where Brenda would forgive him in an implied session of passionate lovemaking.

In December of 1961, Basil was away. I was eight years old, and anxious for his return. Wouldn't it be better if Brenda and Basil lived out his few remaining days together, making happy memories? What good was it if he hung on another ten years separated from his one, true love, in exchange for a couple measly episodes of making-out?

Even at eight, I had lost patience with Basil St. John.

And if it weren't for what happened on that fateful morning in December, 1961, I might have given up hope for Brenda, too.

I was spending the weekend with my grandparents, and by five o'clock Sunday morning, my grandpa let Grandma and me know he was having a terrible heart attack. She told him it was just heartburn, and to go back to bed. She was snoring within seconds, but I knew the truth.

My grandpa, just like Basil St. John, wouldn't be coming home anytime soon.

The doctor made a house call, and an ambulance took Grandma and Grandpa into the city, where Grandpa lived in Intensive Care for the next five weeks. I was hustled to the next-door neighbors, people I did not know, but who had an enormous white Family Bible on the coffee table.

I took great comfort in the physical presence of the Bible--although I had never opened one and didn't that day, either--but I instinctively reached for the Sunday funnies.

What I found there disturbed me almost as much as witnessing my first heart attack.
Evidently, Brenda Starr had been drugged by very bad people who, as the ultimate insult, had shorn her hair. Really shorn. Brenda Starr with a frickin' pixie cut.

"You can get through this, Brenda. Things aren't as horrible as they seem right now. It will be all right, you'll see. Hair grows back, really it does. Basil will still love you, no matter what. You are not alone."

Okay, I admit it. That morning, I played Brenda Starr's shrink, her counselor, her pastor. And in helping her, I pulled myself through a very scary time.

Brenda's hair grew back so fast, I couldn't believe it. Within a few short weeks--before my grandpa was even in a private room--her auburn tresses were as long and voluptuous as ever.

Boy, did I ever want to be Brenda Starr.

The next Halloween, in 1962, I got my chance. My mother bought me a wonderful Brenda Starr mask, and I had a costume to die for. (No cleavage, but still. Heck, I was a kid. There was plenty of time for that.) It was my favorite costume ever.

I must have had Brenda and Halloween on my mind in my sleep last night. Toward morning, I dreamed of having her gorgeous hair, which was growing exponentially like one of those dolls with a little crank that makes her hair cover her rear end in seconds flat.

I awakened with a huge smile and ran to the mirror to see if my hair would turn red and grow big before my very eyes, but no such luck.

Still no cleavage, either.

Posted by Katy on 10/31/03 at 03:03 PM

Fallible Comments...

You should have sent this one to the Star Magazine...love it!
-----
Posted by Bridget on 11/01/03 at 03:31 PM
at the risk of betraying my age, who is brenda star?
Posted by bethany on 11/01/03 at 04:20 PM
Bethany, You know. I try to be with it. I try to be cool, young, hip. (tee, hee.) My daughter read this yesterday and asked the same thing. Brenda Starr is still in the newspaper comic section. She is an ageless (though not sexless) newspaper journalist extraordinaire. Even I haven't read this comic for thirty years, but as a girl? She was like Nancy Drew, only in color. My readers are really YOUNG. I need to remember that, huh?
Posted by katy on 11/01/03 at 06:43 PM
Bridget--Not that you aren't young, too. Very young! Oh, so much younger than I.....thanks for the support in my old age.
Posted by katy on 11/01/03 at 06:45 PM
katy, when you hit old age, we'll let you know...you're as with it as you need to be, lady ;)
Posted by lisa on 11/02/03 at 01:30 AM
Oh no -- does this mean I'm not cool, young and hip? I'm only 25, I'm too young not to be cool, young and hip!

I credit Brenda Starr as the one who planted journalist dreams in my head. I wanted to be gorgeous like her (great figure, awesome hair, eyes you could drown in, mouth made for kissing) and have good-looking men falling at my feet all the time. So now I'm a journalist, and what I want to know is -- WHERE ARE ALL THE MEN??!?! I think I'll sue the comic strip creators for misleading advertising...
Posted by irene on 11/02/03 at 11:35 AM
Lisa, I guess we'll call it "with-it on a need-to-be basis." Cool.

Irene, Thank God! I'm not the only girl influenced forever by the likes of Brenda Starr! Truth in advertising should come into play, though. The great thing about men is that it doesn't end up mattering where they ALL are, only where ONE of them is! Wait for it, wait for it...
Posted by katy on 11/02/03 at 03:45 PM
By the way, Baillie loves Brenda Starr, too. Must run in the family!
Posted by Bridget on 11/03/03 at 12:50 AM
It's so funny...Baillie asked for the comics last night and said, "I'm so behind on Brenda Starr...I must catch up!"
Posted by Bridget on 11/03/03 at 05:15 PM
Bridget, I've been vindicated, and the feeling is sweet. BTW, I think I'll rework this a bit, and send it to Star Mag. Why not? Thanks for the idea!
Posted by katy on 11/03/03 at 06:08 PM
I'm not surprised Carrie didn't know who Brenda Star is. Did you see the movie with Brooke Shields? (at least I think it was Brooke Shields).
Posted by Lynnell on 11/05/03 at 11:42 PM
Lynnell, I'd forgotten there was a Brenda Starr movie! I'll have to rent that, it sounds fun.
Posted by katy on 11/13/03 at 04:35 PM
very cool, katy, so far, i've loved everything of yours i've read...this from a shy, introverted aspiring writer with a huge voice hidden down inside her.
Posted by Sue Haley on 07/10/10 at 06:40 PM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	Brenda Starr and Me Brenda Starr and I go way back. I knew just enough about her by December, 1961, to know I wanted to be her when I grew up. I wanted the career in writing, the fabulous clothes, the glamorous bedroom, the amazing long, red, flowing hair, and the cleavage. Sure, she had a wacky dysfunctional relationship with a guy named Basil, but I hoped they had some semblance of a spiritual connection, since his last name was St. John. A name like that should be able to cover a lot of sins, don't you think? As it turned out, he often disappeared for years at a time into some distant jungle, where he was forced to develop a rare serum from an exotic breed of orchid in order to prolong his own otherwise useless life. Then he'd ingest or inject the serum, and use the cubits that had been added to his miserable existence to trek back to the big city, where Brenda would forgive him in an implied session of passionate lovemaking. In December of 1961, Basil was away. I was eight years old, and anxious for his return. Wouldn't it be better if Brenda and Basil lived out his few remaining days together, making happy memories? What good was it if he hung on another ten years separated from his one, true love, in exchange for a couple measly episodes of making-out? Even at eight, I had lost patience with Basil St. John. And if it weren't for what happened on that fateful morning in December, 1961, I might have given up hope for Brenda, too. I was spending the weekend with my grandparents, and by five o'clock Sunday morning, my grandpa let Grandma and me know he was having a terrible heart attack. She told him it was just heartburn, and to go back to bed. She was snoring within seconds, but I knew the truth. My grandpa, just like Basil St. John, wouldn't be coming home anytime soon. The doctor made a house call, and an ambulance took Grandma and Grandpa into the city, where Grandpa lived in Intensive Care for the next five weeks. I was hustled to the next-door neighbors, people I did not know, but who had an enormous white Family Bible on the coffee table. I took great comfort in the physical presence of the Bible--although I had never opened one and didn't that day, either--but I instinctively reached for the Sunday funnies. What I found there disturbed me almost as much as witnessing my first heart attack. Evidently, Brenda Starr had been drugged by very bad people who, as the ultimate insult, had shorn her hair. Really shorn. Brenda Starr with a frickin' pixie cut. "You can get through this, Brenda. Things aren't as horrible as they seem right now. It will be all right, you'll see. Hair grows back, really it does. Basil will still love you, no matter what. You are not alone." Okay, I admit it. That morning, I played Brenda Starr's shrink, her counselor, her pastor. And in helping her, I pulled myself through a very scary time. Brenda's hair grew back so fast, I couldn't believe it. Within a few short weeks--before my grandpa was even in a private room--her auburn tresses were as long and voluptuous as ever. Boy, did I ever want to be Brenda Starr. The next Halloween, in 1962, I got my chance. My mother bought me a wonderful Brenda Starr mask, and I had a costume to die for. (No cleavage, but still. Heck, I was a kid. There was plenty of time for that.) It was my favorite costume ever. I must have had Brenda and Halloween on my mind in my sleep last night. Toward morning, I dreamed of having her gorgeous hair, which was growing exponentially like one of those dolls with a little crank that makes her hair cover her rear end in seconds flat. I awakened with a huge smile and ran to the mirror to see if my hair would turn red and grow big before my very eyes, but no such luck. Still no cleavage, either. Posted by Katy on 10/31/03 at 03:03 PM Fallible Comments... You should have sent this one to the Star Magazine...love it! ----- Posted by Bridget on 11/01/03 at 03:31 PM at the risk of betraying my age, who is brenda star? Posted by bethany on 11/01/03 at 04:20 PM Bethany, You know. I try to be with it. I try to be cool, young, hip. (tee, hee.) My daughter read this yesterday and asked the same thing. Brenda Starr is still in the newspaper comic section. She is an ageless (though not sexless) newspaper journalist extraordinaire. Even I haven't read this comic for thirty years, but as a girl? She was like Nancy Drew, only in color. My readers are really YOUNG. I need to remember that, huh? Posted by katy on 11/01/03 at 06:43 PM Bridget--Not that you aren't young, too. Very young! Oh, so much younger than I.....thanks for the support in my old age. Posted by katy on 11/01/03 at 06:45 PM katy, when you hit old age, we'll let you know...you're as with it as you need to be, lady ;) Posted by lisa on 11/02/03 at 01:30 AM Oh no -- does this mean I'm not cool, young and hip? I'm only 25, I'm too young not to be cool, young and hip! I credit Brenda Starr as the one who planted journalist dreams in my head. I wanted to be gorgeous like her (great figure, awesome hair, eyes you could drown in, mouth made for kissing) and have good-looking men falling at my feet all the time. So now I'm a journalist, and what I want to know is -- WHERE ARE ALL THE MEN??!?! I think I'll sue the comic strip creators for misleading advertising... Posted by irene on 11/02/03 at 11:35 AM Lisa, I guess we'll call it "with-it on a need-to-be basis." Cool. Irene, Thank God! I'm not the only girl influenced forever by the likes of Brenda Starr! Truth in advertising should come into play, though. The great thing about men is that it doesn't end up mattering where they ALL are, only where ONE of them is! Wait for it, wait for it... Posted by katy on 11/02/03 at 03:45 PM By the way, Baillie loves Brenda Starr, too. Must run in the family! Posted by Bridget on 11/03/03 at 12:50 AM It's so funny...Baillie asked for the comics last night and said, "I'm so behind on Brenda Starr...I must catch up!" Posted by Bridget on 11/03/03 at 05:15 PM Bridget, I've been vindicated, and the feeling is sweet. BTW, I think I'll rework this a bit, and send it to Star Mag. Why not? Thanks for the idea! Posted by katy on 11/03/03 at 06:08 PM I'm not surprised Carrie didn't know who Brenda Star is. Did you see the movie with Brooke Shields? (at least I think it was Brooke Shields). Posted by Lynnell on 11/05/03 at 11:42 PM Lynnell, I'd forgotten there was a Brenda Starr movie! I'll have to rent that, it sounds fun. Posted by katy on 11/13/03 at 04:35 PM very cool, katy, so far, i've loved everything of yours i've read...this from a shy, introverted aspiring writer with a huge voice hidden down inside her. Posted by Sue Haley on 07/10/10 at 06:40 PM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: Give Me More, More, More! Previous entry: Real Life << Back to main


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Brenda Starr and Me

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri