I have to admit that Mama Cass loomed has large in my life. I knew who Cass was from album art when I listened to “Monday, Monday” and other top Mamas and the Papas hits. But the the day Cass entered my self consciousness happened when I took my senior photos in High School. As a 17 year old I felt awkward in my body and felt awkward taking photos that weren’t comedic. I can still hear the photographer’s voice in my head as he said in a reassuring voice, “You know who you look? You look like Mamma Cass!”

My heart dropped. I remembered what those album covers looked like. Pretty little Michelle Phillips with two handsome guys and Cass looking huge wearing a tent dress. This is what I looked like as a 17 year old girl? That’s not what I wanted to be.

In college I took up dressing like Cass for costume parties I wasn’t prepared for. It was an insensitive costume. I’d don a long skirt stuffed with a pillow and carried a ham sandwich. While it was cruel in my mind it was mostly a costume of convenience. I had a ton of flowy skirts and I would eat the sandwich when I got hungry. In one of my later college years I was cast in the play Beautiful Thing. For those who don’t know the movie or play, one of the characters is obsessed with Mama Cass. Of course I was cast.

• 

• 

• 

• 

Research for that role finally made me learn about Cass’ life; it also meant I’d listen to her music incessantly in order to be able to lip synch to it. That’s when I realized the vast similarities between us. First and foremost, we were born on the same day: September 19th. Cass was born Ellen but chose to rename herself Cass supposedly to honor Peggy Cass, whom she adored. Anyone who knows me knows that Auntie Mame is one of my all time favorite movies and Peggy Cass plays Gooch. She had a vast imagination as a child and would imagine countless different scenarios for things. She was friendly with many but longed for someone who could never have. While married twice, neither relationship was conventional by any means. Her first marriage enabled her bandmate to avoid the draft and the second ended after a few months. She was smart and funny and seemingly wonderful to be around, according to one excellent article, “Cass was also the leading salon-holder and advice-giver in storied Laurel Canyon. Graham Nash zoomed right to her for counsel the minute he got off the plane from England; Joni Mitchell was one of her best friends; and the group Crosby, Stills & Nash—one theory goes—was formed in Cass’s home.” However she could be guarded and solitary. She was body positive before there was such a thing as body positivity; she put up with cruel jokes and fought for herself in a Hollywood that was even more superficial. I related to her so much. I drafted cabaret shows I wanted to do with her music. I read biographies about her.

But Cass died at 32.

I realized I’ve been weary to listen to her music for a few years. I think now it’s dawned on me that I’ve outlived this figure who seemed to periodically materialize in the periphery of my life. As I approach my 36th birthday I realize I stopped listening when I turned 33. There were no more similarities to look for. I think for awhile that was incredibly sad for me. But now I think it means I have (hopefully) a lot more time to find what I’m looking for in my life. But I’m thankful for Cass leading me for the first 30 years.