Fabian Forte and Me

When I was a teenager in the 1960s, I wrote a letter asking to be a member of the Fabian Fan Club.  One summer day, weeks later, a large envelope was jammed in our rickety country mailbox.  The return address was Hollywood, California.  I screamed the whole way down the driveway back to the house.  My mother's reaction to my hysteria was, "Omigod, what happened!"

What happened?  Look at this.  This is a picture of Fabian.  It's his handwriting!  And, our stupid mailman bent it! 

Well, it didn't take long for me to realize that nobody in our household had the mental capacity to appreciate beauty.  That was just fine with me.  I kept my 8 x 10 picture safely in my room.  I taped it onto the wall next to my bed, and during my high school days Fabian tucked me in at night and kissed me when I woke up.   Finally I knew why I had been born. I about wore out my small record player playing his 45 record, "Turn Me Loose."  Fabian "sent me."

That was 50 years ago.  Since then I calmed down somewhat, and my delusional love for Fabian was replaced with the real McCoy.  But, you know what?  Deep down inside my teenage heart, I still think of him as my teenage hunk. 

Fabian today

The passing of time has changed Fabian, as it has changed me.  The mirror is no longer the friend it once was.  Our teenage desires and dreams are replaced by reality.  Our hearts yearn now not to be excited, but rather to be comforted. 

Ah, yes, Fabian was my idol.  He forever will be.  Fifty years later, I see him to be someone who was able to make a little girl's heart pound, he entertained me as I sat in my room all alone with my record player wondering why nobody else in the family saw life as I did.  There was a time when it was just me and Fabian, and I'll always be grateful to him for that.