The Detective’s Daughter — Wanting to be Moore

Kim in Baltimore enjoying the warm weather. Wait…it’s still February, right?

I was ten years old and had my future mapped out fairly well for a fifth grader. I knew I wanted to move to Minneapolis on my eighteenth birthday and live in a second floor apartment in an old Victorian house on a snow-covered side street. Pop-Pop gave me a glass jar so I could begin saving for my dream. I tried to convince my best friend at the time, Denise Hampton, to go with me. She could live upstairs from me and wear a long vest and a scarf on her head. She did move, but without me and before we had even made it to middle school.

I had every detail set up perfectly in my mind. A magazine or television station would hire me and I’d have a gruff but kind-hearted boss who would guide my career. I knew this could happen, I had watched this life unfold every Saturday evening.

“You know, Mary Tyler Moore doesn’t really live in Minneapolis, don’t you?” Mom asked one morning as she filled my bowl with Cap’n Crunch cereal.

“Of course I do,” I said, hoping that in real life she lived with Dick Van Dyke in New Rochelle.

Every weekday afternoon I would walk a half block from Saint Mary Star of the Sea School to my Aunt Madeleine’s house for lunch. Aunt Madeleine lived with her daughter whom the family called “Little Madeleine” despite the fact she stood nearly six-feet tall, a good foot over her mother. I was in high school before I realized that the title “little” referred to her age not her size.

Auntie would fix me what she called a “tuna plate” which consisted of a scoop of tuna salad on an ice burg lettuce leaf, carrot sticks, potato chips, and a dill pickle spear.

We sat at the counter in the kitchen watching reruns of The Dick Van Dyke Show on a black and white portable television. It was there I first fell in love with Mary Tyler Moore.

However much I adored Laura Petrie and her perfect hair and fabulous wardrobe, it was Mary Richards I aspired to be. I did not want a house in the suburbs, I wanted to be a writer. It was a career woman’s life I intended to emulate.

For ten years I was that woman, I even had an apartment in an old Victorian, but it was in a dodgy side of town rather than on a picturesque snowy road. My life seemed to reflect Bridget Jones more than Mary Richards!

Through the years as I changed from career woman to suburban mom, I followed Miss Moore’s  career and shared her movies and shows with my own children. I began to admire her more for her personal achievements than for her television accomplishments, especially her work in searching for a cure for diabetes.

This past November at Crime Bake as we celebrated the fabulous William Kent Krueger at dinner, all the attendants were given a task to write a little something that would include bits about Minnesota where Krueger’s series take place. I sat at a table with the Wicked Cozy Authors and together we created quite a lively and funny piece. Julie Hennrikus represented our table and read our creation to the audience. Sherry Harris threw a cap in the air at the final sentence mimicking the MTM show opening. Our table won for being the most creative.

In January I was crushed when I learned of Miss Moore’s death. I remembered being a young child and seeing Nana crying at the kitchen table. I asked her what was wrong and she said, “Our Judy died.” At the time, I didn’t understand her affection for Judy Garland, but now I’m sure I feel quite the same as she did on that day. Someone beloved had been lost to us.

Our idols, people we admire, shape our dreams and our goals. I’ve been across this country four times and have yet to visit Minneapolis. I’m determined not to let another year go by without making the trip. Mary Tyler Moore, her spunk and determination, gave me courage to reach for my dreams and to constantly remind myself that I’m going to make it after all.

Readers: What famous individual has had an influence on your life?