Lessons from Lucy
I’ve been feeling very nostalgic since eating at the Majestic Diner in Atlanta, Ga. My parents used to go there for the chocolate pie when they were dating. The pie is no longer on the menu, much to this chocolate lover’s disappointment, but the restaurant built in 1929 is still there. Like chocolate, since our first encounter, I’ve loved Lucy, and I have come to realize that she has had a more profound effect on me than I ever imagined. Part comedian, part domestic diva, Lucille Ball, with her endearing antics and bright red hair, always inspired me to handle things with humor. Recently, I fell in love with her all over again while watching a new, colorized version of several of the original black and white television shows. I especially love the episode where Lucy and her friend Ethel Mertz go to work in a chocolate candy factory. When the production pace speeds up, Lucy tries to get her bearings by stuffing the candy in her mouth, even putting it down her shirt. That scene produced a needed belly laugh in me. Later, I wondered how Lucy would have handled an experience I had at the beach once. My husband and I decided to go for a walk and collect sea shells as the sun was setting. So fascinated by the small gifts that the water had washed ashore, we failed to realize how quickly the darkness had descended – until we couldn’t see the path back to the car and one of our flashlights died. Suddenly, two other flashlights shown far down the beach, and I yelled for attention, as the people rushed to help us navigate the way back. Knowing Lucy, she and Ethel might have just spent the night there, waking up to sand and seaweed in their hair the next morning. But that was TV, and this is real life. I was crying, and maybe Lucy would have too, as we walked toward the comforting, bobbing lights ahead. I forget the names of the people who helped us that night, only remembering the title of “angels” which I gave them. Maybe a “Lucy Lesson” also propelled me toward safety. Through it all, she always rode the wave. Sarah Rivera is a freelance writer who lives in Atlanta, Georgia. She relies heavily on chocolate and a sense of humor.