By Jarret Liotta

WESTPORT — My connections to Lucille Ball are numerous, though I can’t really say I have any.

But as I set out this week to talk about something besides politics, leaf blowers and how town officials keep neglecting to notify our publication about relevant events going on in Westport that we should be invited to cover on behalf of the community but for some reason aren’t, I thought it might be nice to instead share a little bit about why I love Lucy.

Westport History

To begin with, if you call Westport home it’s pretty damn important that you know Lucy & Ricky Ricardo moved here on February 11, 1957, followed shortly by Fred & Ethel Mertz, who settled in their adjacent cottage on the pretense of raising chickens.

As a member of the Westport Historical Society, Lucy played a pivotal role in destroying the original Minuteman statue, which was first dedicated on the Jesup Green, assuming we can believe what we see on television.

I, for one, was soundly (and almost solely) raised through TV — given the most loving, honorable, reliable and longest-lasting familial connections possible — made all the better through the love and tender care evidenced by Lucy, Ethel, Mrs. Trumbull and of course Marco!

California Here We Come!

I won’t say my move to L.A. around the turn of the century was inspired by the sojourn Ricky & Company made so he could star in that doomed production of Don Juan, but once there I found I shared Lucy’s profound penchant for debasing herself in front of celebrities.

While I never had the opportunity to pie William Holden or massage John Wayne, I did manage to accost a litany of L.A.’s finest with my Lucy-like brand of enthusiasm — Steven Spielberg, Ron Howard, Jamie Lee Curtis, Donald Sutherland, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, Mel Brooks, James Woods, Joe Montagne, Christian Slater, Eugene Levy, Martin Landau … The list goes on …

I can’t say I harmed any of them, but I made my presence known, like a big smelly dog that jumps on you to slobber!

Some weren’t as affable — Helen Hunt and Rob Reiner come to mind — but we all have bad days, so I don’t want to hold grudges, especially toward Mr. Reiner, who was sweating like a moon cow when I accosted him and merely wanted to get himself a soda.

I’m So Glad We Had That Time Together

One of my more restrained celebrity encounters was work-related, when I got to visit Carol Burnett in her home near Santa Barbara to interview her for a documentary project.

She was a perfectly lovely, down-to-earth woman, you’ll be glad to hear, and as she was showing me around her house, I got to see this amazing hallway loaded with framed pictures spanning her career.

She pointed out that there was only one photo in the entire bunch that didn’t have her in the picture — it was a solo shot of Lucy herself, Carol’s honored idol.

Several years after, along with devouring a terrific memoir by Lucy’s former lead writer, Madeline Pugh Davis (“Laughing with Lucy”), I also really loved reading Lucy’s own posthumously published memoir “Love, Lucy,” which is a really grand read and I will highly recommend.

Hers, Mine & Ours

Interestingly, Lucy, who grew up in New York state, always wanted to be settled in an east coast country home like her childhood, not in the desert-like chaparral of the San Fernando Valley — in particular a house with a great lilac tree blooming outside the window in the spring, where the redolent scent of the flowers would permeate her bedroom at night with fragrance.

I, likewise, adore lilacs the most, and whether it’s bringing the fresh flowers into the house in April, or using my favorite lilac-scented stink repellent spray in the toilet, I always think of Lucille Ball by association.

Though I like Nicole Kidman — especially her nude scenes in Eyes Wide Shut — I’m not sure how I feel about her playing Lucy in this upcoming biopic Being The Ricardos, or about Javier Bardem portraying Desi Arnaz.

While we know Desi was a reputed philanderer and legendary hothead, based on this movie trailer I’m not sure he deserves association with that tomb-like death voice Bardem made famous in No Country for Old Men.

“Loo-see! Ahm hooome!”

We’ll see …

Thanks for the Memories

Meanwhile, since the Westport Journal began publication, there is a recurring refrain from the last season of I Love Lucy that I constantly play in my head — with every critical comment, every request for revision or rewrite, every public skewering or private putdown, every instance of being omitted from press-worthy events, or being left off of important public emails …

Those who remember when Bob Hope appeared with Lucy & Ricky at the newly christened Club Babaloo, and the three come out dressed in matching baseball referee regalia and sing …

“Nobody loves … Nobody loves … Nobody loves the ump!”

Gotta Love Lucy!!

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