THE TIME I ALMOST KISSED MARILYN MONROE

It was July 21st, 1962, 

my twenty-fifth birthday.

I gambled five dollars

and won the local lottery

to have dinner with Marilyn Monroe

in downtown Cincinnati. 

We met at six at the Netherland Hilton. 

Marilyn Monroe was quite shy,

so I did most of the talking,

telling her stories from my Upper Peninsula youth.

After dessert and coffee

Marilyn Monroe invited me to her room

to meet her little dog Maf.

I closed the door behind us

and leaned forward to kiss her

but the moment I touched her elbow

I fainted and fell flat on the floor.

Marilyn Monroe helped me back to my feet.

I apologized profusely

but she said, “Don’t worry,

this happens to me all the time.”

That ended my special evening.

I actually thought about   

flying to Hollywood to visit her

but then, just two weeks later,

Marilyn Monroe died

from an overdose of sleeping pills.

The world has never been quite the same.

I'M JUST CRAZY ABOUT THE LAWRENCE WELK SHOW

 

I’m embarrassed to admit it 

but I’m absolutely crazy about the Lawrence Welk Show. 

When the champagne starts bubbling 

my heart starts beating in rhythm. 

There’s the maestro himself 

with his cool hairdo, 

his quasi-European accent, 

his sincerest of grins. 

Jo Ann Castle hammering at the piano, 

Myron Floren, accordion wizard, 

the Lennon Sisters, their voices like angels 

Lawrence and I both hail from 

rural towns in the North Central U.S. 

His ancestry is Polish, mine Swedish. 

We could easily be cousins. 

And all that wonderful big band music 

from the Great American Songbook. 

Plus Bobby and Cissy, 

so smooth, so flawless, 

the finest ballroom dancers since Fred and Ginger. 

When the camera shifts 

to audience members dancing, 

lots of oldies in suits and ties, 

nineteen-fifties hairdos, 

polka dot dresses, 

hearing aids, bifocals. 

My kind of crowd, 

all grinning to the camera, 

all thrilled to be there. 

Some know-nothings complain 

that the Lawrence Welk show is corny. 

That’s ridiculous. 

And even if it were true

there’s nothing wrong with corny. 

Corny is good old-fashioned Midwestern fun. 

My wife claims I watch the Welk show 

just to irritate her. 

There is a speck of truth to that 

but I also watch when she’s not around. 

 I’m just crazy about the Lawrence Welk show.