TV Time With Tim & Dustin

Farrah Fawcett died today. I have been a fan of Farrah since the 1970s. Like the rest of America, I caught Farrah Fever in the 70s when a little show called “Charlie’s Angels” premiered on ABC. I remember being at home and seeing the actual pilot. I know, how sad some would say, but I do have a vague memory of seeing the pilot and falling instantly in love. I was a child in the middle of Nowhere, Tennessee and this was my escape from life: television.

I remember watching the episodes on Wednesday nights with other members of the family. I remember the poster of Farrah in that red bathing suit on every wall in America. I never did get that poster. It was always sold out when I was at Wal-Mart, but I had an aunt who bought me the “Charlie’s Angels” trading cards that came with a piece of gum. I still have those cards in my closet. Also, there was “Charlie’s Angel’s” dolls, but because I was a boy, I couldn’t ask for dolls. Oh how I wanted them!

I loved Farrah. I didn’t want to sleep with her like the rest of male population. No, like the female population at the time, I wanted to be Farrah. I wanted to be beautiful, blonde, and strong. In fact, I pretended to be Farrah Fawcett.

“Once upon a time, there were little queens in Nowhere, Tennessee and I took them away from all of that. My name is Charlie.”

That’s what I heard in my mind during my game. Before recess every day, my two best friends and I took turns writing a ‘case to be solved.’ I was Farrah, AKA Jill Monro. Lester was Sabrina. Reed was Kelly. Charlie was represented by a large rock in the playground area. We would sit around the rock, read our case, and pretend to be Angels.

I remember pretend making out with Lee Majors, Farrah’s husband, on the swings at this same play ground. I made out like some have air sex now. What’s even funnier? My two best friends made out with pretend husbands too.

Once I was caught writing out a case to be played later by our third grade teacher, Mrs. G, who asked me if I would like to read out loud to the rest of the class what I was writing and working on. I thought I was going to die. Luckily, I had no shame and told everyone I was writing on something for recess.

Before the beginning of the fourth grade, my mother took me to get a hair cut. I had let my hair grow out over the summer and now I had to cut it. What did I get? I got Farrah hair. I got the feathered-back bangs. I remember how I felt that day when I left the hair salon. I was so proud and felt so beautiful. I felt special. I had Farrah hair. I even remember feeling like I had ‘big hair’ and it stood out. When I went to school, all the girls went crazy over my hair and the other boys were jealous. I had Farrah hair. I was the first of my class. This thought still makes me laugh and smile to this day.

So for me, to hear Farrah is dead, it hurts. I feel like I lost someone I knew even when my mind tells me I didn’t. For me, Farrah represented those times in my life when I was myself. My true, show-my-colors gay self. She helped me be me before I even knew who I was. I will miss you Farrah and I will cry for who you are and what you were to me. You were definitely an Angel to me Farrah Fawcett. Rest in peace my love. You will not be forgotten. You were a part of my life and my past.