Monday, June 29, 2015
12 Years Ago Katherine Hepburn Died At The Age of 96 . . .
Christal Rice Cooper
In Remembrance: Katherine Hepburn
“Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get –
only what you are expecting to give – which is everything.”
This past May 12, 2015, would have been Katherine Hepburn’s 108th birthday. The feminist from Connecticut had an outstanding acting career: she was nominated 12 times for the Oscar; won 4 Oscars; one Emmy; two Tony Awards; and 8 Golden Globes. In 1999, when she was 92 years old, the American Film Institute ranked Katherine Hepburn as the greatest female film star in cinema history. She died in her home in Connecticut on June 29, 2003, at the age of 96.
by Christal Rice Cooper
I told Miss Barbara Walters I like to think of myself as a tree.
She asked, “What tree would you be?”
I said an oak,
Breathing in the green air of life.
I have not lived as a woman but like a man.
As a child I wanted to be called Jimmy
As a woman I am Mister
And dread wearing uncomfortable dresses.
I prefer tailored suits of men.
Trousers are for women proud to work.
My habit of dress shocked
Mother’s Catholic friends, but
When they learned of my divorce
I laughed when I heard the eggshells crunch.
The press said I was diamonds fizzing in pink champagne.
But I prefer clumps of gold soaking in whisky.
And I could drink my share-
Holding the bottle in one hand, a cigarette in the other.
Who needs a gun? My tongue’s
Sharper than the whip that scourged Christ.
Maybe that’s why they describe my voice as corncrake.
Though I’m no damn bird, but hey,
I intimidated Mr. Fonda himself.
But not my Spence, my Mister Tracy,
My good value baked potato
I enjoyed him six days out of the week
Sundays he went to mass with Mrs. Tracy and their children.
He was my equal, his eyes clear
Magnifying to obsidian pools of light through his glasses-
Glasses only he could wear.
He was my intimate stranger, never
Said he loved me.
But our years together planted my deepest roots.
Some say I’m a temperamental woman
Feisty – even Spence said I was a snake.
I can have my cake and eat it too
I am the stallion brewing vapors of hot and cold in one Yankee breath.
Stallions grow old though
Only death can discredit my spirit.
Was it his drinking or his heart?
I’ll never know.
I didn’t attend the funeral,
But Mrs. Tracy went
I didn’t think it was my place to be seen
I miss my Mister Tracy
But I never yearn for death
Thriving instead for that delicious flame burning between my legs.
And I plan on living for a long time
At least until Miss Walter’s funeral -
Only then will I wear a skirt.
Other Poems Written By Chris Rice Cooper