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Notes from a Crusty Seeker

Is Lady Gaga My Grandmother?

I’m not really savvy about pop stars, but when Lady Gaga appeared on 60 Minutes recently, I noticed. I noticed not only because she uses my grandmother’s name, Gaga (christened when my older sister couldn’t pronounce “grandma”), but I swear they look alike. I’m not crazy, take a look.

Also, my grandmother was crazy about the musical theater and shoes. Her favorite job was when she got to deliver dance shoes from her family's business to musical shows on Broadway.

Also, they are about the same height and both of them like make-up (although my Gaga wasn’t quite so dramatic).

Because of this resemblance, when I heard young Gaga singing in the in park this morning, I took a hike over to the Bandshell to listen. At 8:15 a.m., thousands of adoring fans had filled Rumsey Field to hear her, and the overflow got to see her on a giant screen on the stage built by Elkan Naumburg just a few years after my Gaga stopped delivering shoes and started making babies and conforming to the constraints of being a woman from a good Jewish family in the early twentieth century. That was a time when women depended on men for money and when their men died, they found new ones to support their kids. It was a time when good girls went to watch musicals, not be in them . . . unless they were show girls . . . which I have a sneaking suspicion my Gaga might have fantasized.

I'm guessing about half the world believes in reincarnation, and I like thinking about the possibility that young Gaga is my Gaga. It makes me happy to imagine that my Gaga is now dancing around half-naked and shaking up the world. It makes me happy to imagine her thrill at being adored.
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