I Feel Bad About My Nora Ephron

I’ve never met Nora Ephron. I don't know anyone who has ever met Nora Ephron. I haven’t even read all of what Nora Ephron has written - books, movies, essays, but still – I call her “my” Nora Ephron.

Ever since "When Harry Met Sally..." my Nora Ephron has sat in the back row of my brain – without me even knowing it -- just sitting there -- waiting. Just like everyone else -- if I knew Nora Ephron -- I would REALLY want her to like me. Well maybe not so much me, but maybe my writing or my dark sense of humor or the twisted “copy” of my own life.

And then came "Sleepless in Seattle". There she was, my Nora … still waiting in that back row, being patiently anxious -- her bangs hanging impatiently over her eyes. Someday. Someday she’ll rise up. She must be curious by now. Now ... was that me saying that to you reading this or was that her saying that to me writing this. I don’t know, but its 1993 and both of us are still … waiting.

Next it was "You’ve Got Mail", and oh boy – Meg Ryan, Tom Hanks AGAIN and a kinda remake of Jimmy Stewart and Margaret O’Sullivan in "The Shop Around The Corner". The wit, the charm, the romantic comedy at its best (well not really – if I had to pick - that prize would go to Harry and Sally). Dammit, come on, my Nora! Get your skinny New York ass outta that chair in the back of my brain and DO SOMETHING!

I have been waiting decades for you my Nora, the funny - clever woman, to rise up and be the goddamn f’ing mentor you were supposed to be. But nothing. Absolutely frickin’ nothing … that is not until you made your own “copy” by biting the big one, goin’ toes (and tits) up, kickin’ the bucket, pushing up daisies, expiring …. FADE OUT.

All I can say is …. you may have felt bad about your neck Nora, but I feel bad about my Nora Ephron. You see, – you were my ideal, my hero writer, the one I would most want to be like, write like (as do millions of other nobody writers) – you were just cool. It didn’t matter that you were (according to your family and friends) at times mean, judgmental, driven by ambition, obsessive, controlling, relentlessly opinionated and to be blunt – a royal bitch. You just saw life the way you saw it and turned it into funny funny or tragic funny or painful funny or hurtful funny or bitterly poignant almost funny or most likely snarky funny – sometimes at the expense of others. It didn’t matter --- we all still loved you --- wanted to be like you --- write like you --- see the world as clearly as you and be able to transfer it to paper.

Now, you’re no longer sitting in the back row patiently waiting for me to learn something. I think I get it. I got it watching your son’s story about you. Please don’t be mad at me, okay … but I don’t think I need to want to be like you anymore. My problem is that I can’t write snarky, it hurts me when I’m mean. I wish I WAS driven by ambition – it would make things so much easier – but I’m not. I DO have obsessive down pat and being opinionated, so I get points there – but judgmental -- I’m too messed up myself to pull that one off.

It gut punched me that while you were dying you told none of your closest friends. You had “goodbye” lunches with them without telling them it would probably be the last time they would ever see you. Now, THAT is seriously heartbreaking.

You’re still a hero, my Nora, a rock star ... and still the coolest one in the room. It’s just that you’re now sitting in the front row not the back. All I need to do is decide how I want to live my life, what I believe etc. and THAT is from whence my voice will come. You did it magnificently while you were here … by giving us so many unforgettable words seamlessly strung together.

I’m sorry you had to die for me to get it, but I’m sure there’s plenty of “copy” up there to keep you busy … wherever you are … for your next book … or maybe even a movie. Have you ever seen "A Guy Named Joe"? You might want to watch it …. I’ll be waiting.