Tuesday, December 27, 2016
CARRIE FISHER R.I.P.
We spent a New year's Eve together once and when I picked her up in my crummy little just-the-basics (you had to roll the windows up and down by hand) used Colt station wagon she reacted like she'd just seen a whimsical drunken butterfly cross her vision. We spent most of the night at a star-studded party at Alana Stewart's (Rod's ex) that I found too boring so convinced her and our table mates—Neil Simon and Terri Garr—to go to a younger Hollywood party I knew of that was over crowded and much more lively.
Carrie was pretty much up for anything when I was around her, but with a steady smart ass commentary that made me feel like my mind was porridge, she was just so quick. I cherish every moment I spent with her and especially her generosity of spirit. I brought someone with me almost every year to that birthday bash, which she always let me know she didn't appreciate, she just invited me. But I was almost always the only non-star there, so I'd often bring a friend to have someone to talk to and she'd put up with it (even though she and I would talk, usually, with the handful of friends left after everyone departed).
I am so so sorry for her daughter and her mother and brother and all her family and friends and fans, all left without her way too soon. But having seen my first wife, the mother of my two oldest children, have her heart stop for several minutes and be brought back only to spend the next six years in a coma, (which was the first thing I thought of when I heard the news of Carrie's heart stopping while still on the plane before being revived after landing), I'm glad for Carrie that this didn't drag on.
We could have so used her wit and tenacity in the years ahead. Bye-bye beautiful.