As I get older and older, I realize more and more. This is one of the conundrums of life and
aging. At one or two-- or ten-- times in
my life I wanted a different name, a different face and a different
persona. But let me start with the name.
In the 1950’s my name
was a tiny bit unusual. There were no
other kids in my school with it, except a boy who lived down Angus Street and
spelled his name with a CH. Must have
been Irish! Now my name sounds like a chirpy
young waitress taking your order. But
enough of that. Suffice it say, I wasn’t
a “Jason” in the 1980’s.
When I was in junior high and there was a comic strip in the
LA Times that I read every morning. I have always read the comics and do so to
this day. (And, as a side note, I would
like to say that I find MARY WORTH to be the most annoying, supercilious, nosey
and self-possessed person on the planet. I am also very suspicious that her
hairstyle is changing and she is aging backwards. )
This new comic was one I loved and remember little of, except
the name: TIFFANY JONES. Tiffany was British, as were The Fab Four,
Twiggy, Carnaby Street and, my all time favorite, Emma Peel. Tiffany was blonde, perky and pretty—though I
only saw her in black and white print—and was everything that I wasn’t.
It’s a far cry from going
from the morning breakfast-table comics to a name change. Though I respected Brenda Starr, felt for the
orphan Dondi, enjoyed Nancy and her antics with Sluggo and was amazed by the
square-jawed Dick Tracy with his precursor of the Apple Watch, it’s a bit of a
stretch to change one’s name after a comic strip. Tiffany Smithson was not to be.
I am SO glad I didn’t. I wouldn’t want to share a name with
a Trump!
Then there was the time I wanted to look like someone
else. Who doesn’t? But there was this one actress that I really
thought I might be willing to do the Devil’s Deal with to look like and, I must
say she isn’t/ wasn’t a glamour girl but more a beauty of the traditional sort.
At least a cosmetic company thought so. Fortunately, the Devil’s Deal wasn’t an option
and I watched from afar as she –being the same age as I am—(Hey, I’m not
wishing for miracles!) aged….and
aged….and aged. I will never divulge her
name. (Well, maybe, if money is
involved.) I saw her today online and
thought back to my wish to trade faces with her. Perhaps if she saw me she would be quite
relieved. I wouldn’t blame her. But I’m
kinda happy that I don’t want to be her anymore. Nor Tiffany Jones.
