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FATHER OF LIZA
■ Liza Frances Todd was only seven months old when her famous father, Mike Todd, met a spec j tacular end in a plane crash over Grant, New Mexico. Her mother, the beautiful queen of the American cinema, Elizabeth Taylor, was spared from the same fate by the fortuitous \ fact of a serious cold which kept her homebound that blustery March day three years ago. Liza was too young then to perceive the grief that had befallen her and her mother. She was still surrounded by love and attention. If she missed that mock-stern ! voice of her father's calling her "sweet monkey," she could not communicate her loss to anyone. Besides, Mama was there, hugging her to pieces and bathing her tiny face in warm kisses. Liza never knew that those moist kisses were mingled with tears of anguish. Then there was all the traveling and two big brothers to tease her and please her every whim. Then the first steps into Mama's arms, the first word "Mama" — for the beautiful lady who played for hours on end with her. The kind soft voice that encouraged a baby to smile, crinkling nose and mouth and bringing a sparkle of love to those magnificent blue eyes so like her late father's. Then it was talking time. Words put together like magic. Words that could bring squeals of pleasure and pride from beautiful Mama. Words that Mama' said over and over again so little Liza could learn. Mama telling Liza about little puppies and kittens and pretty blue birds, pointing out the floppy tail, the tickling whiskers, the soft feathers and explaining each over and over as if the words had as much meaning for the tiny two-year-old as they did for Mama herself.
That was the secret, of course. Mama felt Liza could understand and Liza did understand. Mama never talked itty-bitty baby talk. She said words of love, of instruction, of happiness, of pride, of soothing, of prayer in her grown-up way so Liza could learn how to grow up too.
Then there was the day that Mama looked so very beautiful in moss green chiffon with lots of people kissing her. Liza wanted to kiss her Mama too. She was like a fairy tale princess, too unreal to be true. But when Mama saw her, she stooped to scoop her up in her arms, crushing the lovely dress and flowers and not caring one single bit. Then Mama took (continued on page 78)
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