Those of you who have followed my Internet blogging for over 32 years know that I was once briefly married to actress Farrah Fawcett in 1970. We were a couple of kids, full of hope and youthful enthusiasm, who rode the roller coaster of passion and resentment. We tasted the champagne and the tears, and after 6 tempestuous days, the marriage was annulled. And now my personal Angel is gone.
This afternoon, I took a few moments to look at the 8mm films of our celebrity-studded wedding at Our Lady of the Lilacs Catholic Church in Santa Monica. When I found the formally-posed photo of the wedding party, my ample heart lodged in my throat. There Farrah and I stood next to my Best Man, jovial and generous Ed McMahon. And in the front, legs akimbo, squirming with youthful impatience sat our ring bearer, a precocious Michael Jackson. (Strangely enough, standing right behind Michael was my infamous uncle, Leo "Legs" Akimbo.)
This has been a terrible week.
Good-bye Farrah, my love. You have left me with a tattered poster, a tattered restraining order, and a bushel basket full of memories.
Good-bye Farrah, my love. You have left me with a tattered poster, a tattered restraining order, and a bushel basket full of memories.
Good-bye Ed, my buddy. I'll never forget you and Joan Rivers having that drunken slap fight at Ye Little Club on La Cienega.
And, finally... Good-bye Michael. You've touched so many people.
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