It was summer of 1974 and I was almost 12.

My family had just moved from a small town to a bigger city. I was a new kid in 7th grade at the big junior high school.

Maybe a little bit immature for my age, certainly not sophisticated or destined for popularity.

But luckily, on the very first day I made a new best friend – Jules.

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But the biggest thing I remember about that time was that I was completely boy-crazy.

Not for any boy in 7th grade, but for the film legend Robert Redford.

I had just seen The Sting and it was all I could talk about. Analyzing every scene, every line, swooning over the star. And I was just so desperate for his next movie to be released.

And I remember going to a sleepover at Jules’s house and bringing along my signed studio glossy of him. I propped it next to me on the pillow of my sleeping bag.

Forget about 12 year old boys – I knew what I wanted and it wasn’t them.

It was Redford.

He had it all – golden good looks, charm, a cinematic smile and that indefinable cool guy personality.

I had seen all of his movies and had a huge poster of him on my bedroom door.

What an innocent I was, what little I knew about boys and men.

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But I’ll say this, I had good taste.

Handsome, articulate, politically active, Redford was the consummate Everyman.

He was, quite simply, a decent man.

And as I look back at that young girl in her pink bunny slippers, I think about how much she had to learn.

But also how much she already knew.

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When I went to my high school reunion this past summer, it brought back some of these old memories. And I was reminded of things about myself that I had long forgotten.

The awkwardness of those moments. But also the grace.

My friends tell me they remember me as being bouncy and bubbly, floating down the halls at school with a smile.

And this was so healing for me to hear. I really couldn’t remember the way I was.

Because I tended to see the old frames in black and white – to ruminate over the struggles, the loneliness, and the depression.

I thought I was such a loser.

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But now I see that maybe I wasn’t just the dark, depressed girl back then.

Maybe I was the sunny girl who just happened to get depressed.

Funny how we write a script about ourselves and we never quite re-write it, or even try to edit it very much over the years.

Anyway, after graduation, when I went off to college, I ditched that image of myself and in doing so I threw away the entire script.

And only now, years later, can I see that most of the pages were actually pretty decent, even true.

I was innocent. I was fun. I was loved.

I was just me.

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Part of the appeal of Robert Redford, or any other star crush, is that you have complete control over the narrative. You can close your eyes and see the actor in a perfect incandescent light.

He never screws up, loses his temper or messes up the house. He delivers all of the best lines. And he doesn’t take up too much of your personal space.

But I think Robert Redford took up a very distinct space in my 12 year old world.

He was there when I was hitting all of the adolescent milestones. The awkward chapters – wearing my first pair of panty hose, buying my first bra, and finally getting my period.

He was a stand-in when I wasn’t ready for a real boyfriend. He buffered the fear and trepidation of first dates, kisses and whatever else.

He was a sure, safe thing – what you saw was what you got.

And he served as a boost to my self esteem all though those school years. And then, of course, I grew up, and he bowed out, gracefully, fading into the floodlights of my imagination.

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Every once in a while I think we all stumble across a person, or a caricature, or a figure that sort of redeems us.

A personality that fulfills some core need in us that is longing to be met.

For me it was safety – the basic need to feel secure in my changing world – with the upheaval in my friendships, in my home and even my own body.

A place in my mind, in my overactive imagination, that I could go to and have all of my stories play out just as I wanted them to.

Where I could be creator, director and star of my own life.

It might be an overstatement to say that Robert Redford was a template for my marriage, but I think it’s a little bit true.

I just know that I will always take seriously the tastes and aspirations of young girls.

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So thank you, Mr. Redford.

You helped me dream. And to see that there were higher ideals out there if I stayed patient and kept my options open.

And you helped me not to settle for what the world offered, but to shoot for something more.

You helped me write and re-write my own script, and for that I am forever grateful.

Always and forever.

xoxo