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My Friend

 Every community has a glamorous lady -- and, for Maplewood, the lady is L.


L lives three doors down from me. When I spot her and ask about her state of mind, she sighs deeply and says, "I'm mourning the position of women in this country." She goes on: "I'm not depressed? I'm not anxious? I'm languishing. Read the Times. It's a thing, it's called languishing."

I offer that my life has recently become a bit more colorful, because I have some proofreading jobs.

"That's nice," says L. "I'm working with Brooke Shields. I'm producing her documentary about her teen years. Brooke says, You think the Britney stuff was bad? It's time to hear MY story...."

I nod, as if we've all "been there."

"Of course," adds L, "the big bulk of my time is going to my true crime film. Have I mentioned that? TELL THEM WHAT YOU DID. The entire town knows the identity of the murderer. They're saying, TURN YOURSELF IN!"

I express my deep love of crime, and briefly, silently, I wonder why that love hasn't somehow been translated into my own special film-production career. The answer is blowing in the wind....

There's a pause. "Do you think you might come to my daughter's birthday?" I ask. I imagine I'm petitioning Ariana Grande to devote eight weeks to my local community theater.

L stares off at my house, as if it's on another continent. "I'll definitely try to make it," she murmurs.

And this is not a NO. It's a punt! A classic, by-the-book punt! A feather in my cap....
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