I am strangely saddened by the news of Anna Nicole's death today.
I had wept for her back in September when her son Daniel died suddenly, having observed in recent years, all too closely, the devastation the loss of a child can have on the parents and family.
George and I watched Anna's TV show religiously, albeit in a gawker-slowdown kind of way. It seemed apparent she had wetbrain from imbibing in too much of God-knows-what over the years. We mocked and ridiculed her each week, and certainly held very little respect for her, if any.
So why am I shedding tears over this news?
Maybe it's because I see Anna Nicole's life as tragic. The girl was from white-trash roots and was making her way in life as a stripper when she had the good fortune to land the Playboy gig that led her down the road to wealth and infamy. If it weren't for that one turn in the road that got her noticed, she would have gone down like so many other poor, uneducated, underserved and underinsured people in this country. Like that inbred cousin who guest starred on her show a few years ago.
And that is something to cry about.
RIP, Anna Nicole. Say 'hi' to Daniel for me.
