Hearts Made of Gold

The book Desilu: The Story of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz was a very tough read for me. It took me some time to recover from the evident pain so many people suffered.

Seeing how bitter, unreasonable and angry Lucille had turned into, and how completely self-destructive Desi had become after their divorce were like punches after punches into my face. I suggest fans to read their individual autobiographies

A Book by Desi Arnaz

Love, Lucy by Lucille Ball

before diving into Desilu: The Story of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, because there were too many factors that changed the both of them, factors that were such big blows, that it is impossible for one to recover from.

If only they had left their fame behind and had gone somewhere else completely secluded to start anew, things wouldn't have turned out this way.

Bear in mind that Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz were the nicest, sweetest people around. Desi was simpler to analyze: he was outwardly nice and sweet. Lucille was complicated: one has to own a sharp pair of eyes and a keen sense of perception to feel her niceness and sweetness.

Working for a boss like Desi was a man's greatest dream. He treated each and every one of his employees humanely. In fact, even his band members' welfare came before his. He expected honesty from his employees, and in turn, he provided generously. Even after he became the president of Desilu, he didn't become high and mighty. He was the most modest boss ever, even with his increasing addiction to alcohol.

Lucille may seem like a tough nut, or an ice queen, but she had a soft spot buried deeply in her. Over the course of her marriage, she had experienced the indescribable heartache of not one, but three miscarriages. She wanted nothing as much as having a child that belonged to Desi and herself, but thrice, that child slipped away from the both of them. Her earliest scrapbooks consisted of adorable pictures of babies with endearing notes expressing her longing for a child.

No one could communicate that indescribable heartache of a miscarriage than one who has had a miscarriage herself:

Shortly after recovering from a miscarriage, Lucille heard the news that Desi and her longtime friend, Marcella Rabwin, too suffered from a miscarriage. Marcella was depressed the entire time in the hospital. She wouldn't speak to anyone, and her room was always kept dark and quiet. The lost of a baby was so traumatizing. Lucille forgot about her own loss and rushed to the hospital. She didn't knock on the door; she just opened the door as unobtrusively as possible to let herself in, fully clothed. She didn't say a word, not even a hello. She started unbuttoning her blouse, and to Marcella's surprise, Lucille did a comical striptease for her. And the ever depressed Marcella laughed uproariously- the first time she had laughed throughout the disaster. Seeing that she had helped, Lucille then left quietly, expecting no words of gratitude and giving no words of condolences. Words were not necessary.

Lucille didn't have to go out of her way. But she did. Lucille was so wonderful.

This is one of the great things that women can do for women- the capacities of a woman's love astounds me at times. And Lucille has the capacity to care and love so greatly for a friend. Imagine how she worshiped Desi then.

Those two had hearts made of gold.