Sniff, sniff. Talk amongst yerselves. I'm a little overwhelmed this morning. You may remember that my 70s-obsessed self was reeling from the e-mail response I received from Carol Brady Florence Henderson a few weeks ago. Well, imagine how I felt when I opened the mail and found this little goody in a manilla envelope:
In all fairness, there's an address on her website where you can send an SASE and request an autographed photo. I figured I'd get one with her signature, one of many out of a huge stack she signs while she's watching CourtTV. (Wait, that's my t.v. obsession. You get the idea, though: hours parked in front of the t.v. churning out signed photos like an assembly line.) What I didn't expect was for it to have my name on it as well. She signed to me...personally...my name...with hers. Even my uppity daughter seemed impressed, although she kept insisting we could pawn it and it was worth a billion dollars. She did ask if I was going to frame it and put it next to my autographed photo of David Cassidy. Was there ever any doubt?
I recently read Life is Not a Stage, Florence Henderson's memoir of her years in show business. Regular readers of this blog know I have a slight 70s obsession. I'm wild about all things Partridge and Brady and owl-ish and Mystery Machine flowery. Well, I read in Carol Brady's Florence Henderson's book that she reads all the e-mails sent through her website and responds. I didn't quite believe that, but I went ahead and sent a message anyway, telling her about my obsession with love of the show and how my daughter and I watch the show regularly together and what a fan I am. And this came in yesterday's email:
Oh...my...GOD! Carol Brady wrote to me! I showed my daughter and bounced in my seat and forwarded it to my mother and sister and then read it a couple more times. Ranks right up there with touching David Cassidy's hand. Later Foghorn came in to ask if I wanted to watch The Brady Bunch.
"You mean watch my best friend? Of course I wanna watch!"
"Mom!" she squealed. "She's not your best friend."
"She wrote to me! Right here!"
"She wrote you three lines."
"Nope, nope. We're besties. BFF's. Me and Carol Brady," I chirped.
Foghorn rolled her eyes and then said in her most condescending tone, "Mom, you really need to grow up."
Whatever... Even she can't piss in my Wheaties today! I'm in some groovy, bell-bottomed 70s heaven and feel like I'm floating six inches above my green shag carpet.
** NOTE: Over the years I've been asked what I said to Florence Henderson to make her "laugh out loud." In my email to her I wrote that I had been impressed by her work over the years but especially when she went on Dancing with the Stars (in her late 70s, no less). I then said, "I mean this in the most loving and respectful way but you've got balls!" Apparently she liked that. R.I.P., Mrs. Brady.
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