Ladies

Because Lady Bird Johnson died I have been thinking about "lady" deaths.

Some years ago, my immediate family created the presidential death bet. We each picked the order the living presidents would die and then put $20 down on our order. Three of us were out almost immediately, as we had gone Reagan before Nixon. The two Nixon folks are still in the running, having gotten the first three right. The outcome rides on George H.W. Bush going before Jimmy Carter or vice versa. I have to say that I am glad the bet was conceived before the current idiot stole the 2000 election.

Anywho, some years after its inception (I believe on the occasion of Jacqueline Kennedy's death, though Pat Nixon had gone before), I said that we should have included the first ladies.

My mother, a great fan of the Kennedy legacy, allowed as that was "NOT funny." I didn't think it was, actually. I just thought it would have made things more interesting. So, for that matter, would Nixon have, had he had the decency to live longer than that actor people thought played president so well.

Lady Bird (who hated her nickname, as I read in her L.A. Times obit) would have lost me the bet. I would have guessed she'd go before Pat Nixon certainly. She got me to thinking about ladies and ladies who have died and I realized that I had meant to note the passing of a lady who I wish were still in the world. She died back in April and I miss her.

Not every day, mind you. I didn't know her but I liked knowing she was in the world.

Who am I talking about? Why, you know, of course, Miss Kitty Carlisle! Or Mrs. Kitty Carlisle Hart if you prefer. She would have known I was talking about her. Kitty KNEW things.

She was smart, elegant, and, really, a bit of a know-it-all. She most always knew the answer on To Tell the Truth. (That is, when she didn't have to recuse herself because she had met the unusual person before). She seemed to know everyone from Hollywood and Broadway and also seemed to have done some learning of other things along the way. My favorite bit of her To Tell the Truth appearances, though, were her entrances. She entered with what can only be described panache. Try to catch it sometime on late night teevee. No one could make an entrance like Kitty could. From what I gather, her exit at 96 had as much grace as her life. We should all be so lucky.

When she died in April, that were lots of lovely tributes to her, so I won't try my hand at a tribute to someone who I only saw on television. I will say this, though: on the occasion of an unfunny death of an interesting woman and first lady, let's also pause to remember the other ladies in our lives who stood out for being a little different, a little smart, and a little (or maybe a lot) independent.

Happy journeys to them all.