kansas city bomber
The first time I saw Raquel Welch was on a televised USO show in December, 1967. By that point she’d been made a star by Fantastic Voyage, and after some roles in British films, she was a legitimate sex symbol. A soldier was picked out of the crowd and invited up on stage to meet her. From all buzz and cat calls and guys jostling for position, a lone GI emerged and made his up on to the stage, looking a bit sheepish, but still eager cause he was gonna get a kiss from her. Granted, it was only a kiss on the cheek. But it was fucking Raquel Welch.
And I wanted to be him. Badly – with all my 5 year old being I wanted to be him. I sat in the bath that night, closed my eyes, scrunched up my face, and pressed my hands together and wished as hard as I could – let me be that guy for that one second when Raquel Welch leaned in close and put her lips on his skin.
Fine imagery. You nicely capture the boundlessness of childhood longing, which, looking back on it, was more painful than the adult version for its utter lack of disillusionment.
Raquel Welch=sexy.
so well put, clint. and thanks for the nice feedback. i figure blogging is a good place to practice writing. man, that 60s/70s raquel is so hot. it’s almost criminal.
the “One Million Years B.C.” raquel is iconic.
Maybe this is another symptom of old farthood, but I’m not sure today’s starlets will hold up as well as Raquel and Sophia Loren–my subconscious toggles readily between those two.
apropos of nothing: Thanks so much for your help with the move.