I love this picture of Marilyn Monroe putting mustard on a hot dog at some nondescript lunch counter in NYC. She looks so pretty: her hair all wavy, the lace edging of her white top and that serious look on her face. (Hey! Mustard on hot dogs is serious business, ok?)
But even better is the look on the faces of those on either side of her. That young boy, and that gentleman…you know they can hardly believe their good luck. They just probably wanted lunch, and they got Marilyn! Imagine the stories they told that night at the dinner table!
My Marilyn story is not as exciting, but I do have one. When I lived in Switzerland, I tutored English on the side. One of my students was quite well-to-do and collected old cars. One of his favorite things to do was to take a different car each week to his lessons, as he lived about 45 minutes away in the country and enjoyed the drive.
After our lessons, my car-less self would take the train home (I miss those days), but one day my student insisted on driving me home. I declined politely what felt about ten times. No, he said, you have to take a ride in this car.
I demurred and walked over to the beautiful Rolls Royce, a Silver Cloud, and started to get into the passengers side. No no no, he exclaimed…in the back: I am your chauffeur today! Again I demurred, and sat in the expansive backseat of this gorgeous car.
He told me he was going to take the long way around to my village, so I could enjoy the drive. It was spring and we talked about how nice the sun felt and what we were growing in our gardens, but of course in the end, we talked about the car: what type it was, how long he had owned it, etc. I asked how many owners it had belonged to, and he replied that he was the third. He had bought it from a sheik, but the first owner was Marilyn Monroe.
That’s why I wanted to drive you home, he said. You had to sit in her car.
(He immediately became teacher’s pet)
Photo via Everything’s Beautiful Here
