As We Celebrate International Day of the Girl, let us remember Lucille Ball
As adults, we forget how important mentors are to girls. A mentor can be a family dog that shares endless love, a teacher who never forgets to recognize and praise successes, a tree that teaches the comforts of just relaxing in the shade or even a television personality who is always there for a kid to come home to. Mentors are important for showing us how to create lasting, successful relationships. For me, one of my favorite mentors was Lucille Ball.
Oh, what ecstasy in my childhood to finish a dreary Monday by watching Lucy come to grips with her life in hysterical ways! She gave me courage to believe that one could overcome adversity, have a life worth living, fill that life with positive emotions and fun, and stay happy even when faced with momentary distress. No one in the world could eat as many chocolates as fast as Lucy, working on an assembly line, bake a loaf of bread so large it overtook the kitchen, or carry a smelly cheese onto an international flight, wrapped up as baby! No one could make me laugh so hard!
Lucy has held the key to my humor heart from the very beginning! Ah, I wish I could find her any time I need her—after a bad day, after bad news, after having too big a dinner—after almost any occasion that could be buffered by a good laugh and a comforting sense of the familiar.
What was her magic? How has she managed to take me to my Enchanted Self since I was 10 years old, watching her in Fairfield, Connecticut on Monday nights? How has she engendered positive states of being again and again?
First of all, for most of us over 25, Lucy was part of our history. She was always there, on a snow day, a day of illness, a late night when one couldn't sleep. If you were lucky and flicked through enough stations, there she was. Her smile was infectious, and her ineptness made us all feel comfortable. It was as if she revealed our most embarrassing moments for us. We never had to feel the shame or humiliation of tripping down the stairs with a giant showgirl hat on our heads or try to catch up with the real superman on the ledge of our apartment! Lucy did it for us. Yet, inside each of us was the youngster that would have given anything to be on a show or looking for superman!
Secondly, she gave us the real family that had a lot going for it, which not all of us had. They really seemed to love each other, they had good friends, they always made up when they fought, and nothing happened that was truly devastating. Silly mistakes were just that, and grudges were not held. They got to travel and meet famous people and eat in fancy restaurants. And they had a baby and everyone was happy and loved the baby and no one was jealous. Lastly, they got to move up in life when they finally moved to a bigger house in the suburbs with lots of land and of course, more funny happenings. They even raised chickens!
What a beautiful world Lucy and her gang created for us. It was our country, our way of life, but on top of the familiar was humor, love, and always recovery from problems or embarrassments. In her own way she created positive psychology, before it had a name, for kids, tweens, teens and adults.
In essence, she made the familiar the best it could be! She helped us live in our imaginations for a while, yet kept us earthbound at the same time. Yes, we were in states of well being, again and again—which is what THE ENCHANTED SELF is all about.
I realize now that she was one of my most important mentors. She was as important as Laura in Little House on The Prairie, one of the best books for girls that I ever read. Laura came to life in her books about pioneer life. Lucy came to life on our black and white TV screen. Thanks, Lucy! I hope I see you stuffing chocolates into your mouth again soon, so I can feel good about my silly, awkward moments and have another wonderful belly laugh!
(This article appears also on my blog: www.thetruthforgirls.com ) with a different title.
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This article was originally published at . Reprinted with permission from the author.