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Re: Dr. Bob, where would be a good place to... Deneb

Posted by Dinah on March 2, 2006, at 19:08:33

In reply to Re: Dr. Bob, where would be a good place to... NikkiT2, posted by Deneb on March 2, 2006, at 17:44:32

I don't see anything wrong with it at all.

I used to love Davy Jones, and then I loved Bob Crane. I felt really bad about that. Like I shouldn't have loved Bob because that wasn't fair to Davy. I filled my diary with page after page after page of how I loved Bob. I had a paper parrot on the door to my room that said "Bob-bob-bob-bobby". I imagined how it would be to kiss him. (I even wrapped my arms around myself and pretended to kiss him. Shhh. Don't tell.) I thought I just couldn't live because I couldn't be with him. He was, alas, married. And the same age as my father.

But then! Oh joy of joys! He came to town with his play "Beginner's Luck". I was sooooo excited. I had heard on Tattletales that he was a breast man. Well, I didn't have much in the way of breasts back then, but I bought the lowest cut dress they made for thirteen year old girls. On the day of the exciting event, we made our way to The Beverly, which was a supper club. I laughed. I cried. After it was over, he announced he'd be signing autographs in the lounge area. I thought I would die. I really did. I stood in line, making sure I was near the back so that I could prolong the moment as long as possible. Then. There he was. Maybe a bit older than I had pictured, but with that roguish twinkle in his eye and that heart melting grin. Sigh. I went up to him, and held out my program to be autographed. Then my father said "My daughter's in love with you. Could you give her a kiss?" And he did. Right on my lips. Can you believe it? I thought I'd just die right there on the spot. I'm not sure I've even washed those lips since.

Towards the end of the run, I went to see him again. And would you believe? He remembered me!!!!! Me! Dinah X! This time he gave me a kiss without even being prompted. My mother had brought along her instamatic, but the darn thing wouldn't go off properly. Well, you may not know this about Bob, being the youngster you are, but he had rather a thing for cameras. And he and some other nice theatergoers helped my mom, and finally we got one picture. Me, me myself, and Bob Crane. I've got it blown up poster size and it's hung up on the inside of the closet in my study. My heart still pitter patters a bit as I look into those roguishly twinkling eyes and heart melting smile. Right there with his arm around me. Yes me.

Sadly, Bob was bludgeoned to death a few years later, June 29, 1978, with a camera tripod. And one of the books of pornographic photos he liked to take was missing. Police think this hobby may have had something to do with his death, and a friend of his was tried but acquitted. When my dear friend called to tell me the news, I was devastated. My diary entry that day was a long explanation to myself of how my love came to die in such a way. I wore at least a token piece of black every day for a month.

I think I love him still. I still remember his lips on mine. I bought all the Hogan's Heroes DVD's as soon as they are released. I'm waiting for the last season. I've heard tell that his son was going to release a book that I wouldn't particularly mind having, except that it would feel like a gross invasion of his privacy. And I wouldn't do that to Bob. Ever.

My therapist knows all about this. I brought in my diary from those years, for other reasons mostly, but I gave it to him to read, and when he laughed till he cried, I knew he had come across my heartfelt grief at Bob's death. Which was a bit insensitive of him, don't you think? I guess a sixteen year old girl trying to explain why a man was interested in pornography was a bit... Well, I didn't know much of the ways of the world.

But to make a long story short, my therapist didn't think that there was anything wrong with my loving Bob Crane with all my heart and soul. He's even seen the picture of the two of us together. He thinks I looked so happy, and that he had roguishly twinkling eyes and a heart melting grin.

I met my husband the year after Bob died. I guess that's just as well, as I might not have fallen in love with him while my heart belonged to another.

Now in THAT case, my therapist would have probably thought there was something very very wrong.

Not mine of course. I framed mine and put it somewhere safe, which probably means I'll never find it again. :(




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