I wake up to the news that
James Garner has died. He was 86, and my
first crush.
I was only 6 when Maverick
debuted on ABC. I can’t remember
the time slot of shows I watch today, but I do remember that Maverick aired from 7:30 to 8:30 every Sunday night. And though this was past my normal bedtime, my parents would always let me stay up and watch my favorite show.
Bret Maverick was my hero.
Bret Maverick was my hero.
I was too young to imagine
him my boyfriend, so instead, I imagined him my father. Not that I didn’t love my own father, but I
liked to fantasize growing up in a home where James Garner was always there.
When my friend Marcie went
to summer camp in Maine, she befriended a girl named Kim; she was James
Garner’s stepdaughter. My hope was that Marcie would be invited to LA to visit
Kim, and be told she could bring a friend.
That of course never happened.
I would even create ideas
for Maverick episodes, where I would appear as Bret’s daughter. I was more than a little obsessed. In fact, it was perhaps around this time I developed an interest in becoming a film star. That, too, never quite materialized.
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