Can You Believe It Has Been Fifty Years?????????????????????????????????????

                                             I know, girls, I know.  But it is a sad thing to remember.

                                             Let me tell you my story.

                                             This date, back in 1969, was on a Sunday.  I got up, around 9, because I knew my father and I had to go to eleven o'clock Mass. Several days earlier, I had just graduated from that special hell reserved for the pubescent called Eighth Grade.  I came downstairs, greeted my parents, who were getting breakfast ready, when they told me,
"Judy Garland is dead."

                                               What?  I couldn't believe it.  But there was no denying it.  The radio was filled with it, and when I went into the TV room and turned on the set, I plopped down on the floor, in a state of irreconcilability.

                                                  I mean, Judy and "The Wizard Of Oz" were my favorites.  And now she was gone?  At the (as I thought then!) ancient age of 47?????????  How is this possible?

                                                   I know now, after years of living, and reading about the living tragedy that was her life, despite the brilliant legacy she left behind.

                                                    But, at age 14, this was inconceivable to me.  My parents grasped how this was really affecting me, and knew I needed distraction.  So, they called up my Aunt Martha and Uncle Jack, in Cedar Grove, New Jersey, and the plan was for us to visit.  But MGM's reissue of "Ben-Hur" was playing at the Clairidge Theater (then a big movie house) in Montclair, NJ, not far from us.  So, I was taken to this film, which I had wanted to see, and cried my eyes out, in catharsis for Judy, but also because of the Miklos Rosza score, the Nativity, the image of Michelangelo's "The Creation," the Crucifixion, and Esther visiting Miriam and Tirzah, in the Valley Of The Lepers, followed by their persecution by the villagers, who threw stones at them, as Judah Ben-Hur tried to bring his mother and sister to see Jesus.  Then, came the Crucifixion, and, oh, my God, the miraculous cure of leprosy.  I wept throughout each and every moment, and as the rain poured in streams on the gigantic screen, so did my tears, crying for the both the film and Judy Garland's death, which, by this time, for me, were indistinguishable!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                     I was drained.  But not too much not to enjoy seeing  Aunt Martha and Uncle Jack--she was a wonderful cook, and I loved his sense of humor--and enjoy a visit, plus a swim in their pool.

                                                       And now a half century has passed.  Something else that was inconceivable to me, then.

                                                       But wait!  I don't want to leave you all sad and weepy!  Judy Garland's passing was sad, but not what she left behind.  What else can I end this post with, but the following---as seen above.

                                                          Rest In Peace, Judy! And sing to the Celestial Realm!!!!!!!!!!