Sitting Shiva
Wendy Wasserstein died yesterday. She was 55 and her daughter, Lucy, is 6. As someone who's been there and done that, my heart goes out to that girl. Kiddo, you didn't do anything wrong, and it will be O.K. When, I can't tell you. You'll miss her next month and then you'll miss her in a completely different way when you're 12, 19, 25 and so on. Grief can take a lifetime. If I could give you a great big hug, I would. And if the company of a total stranger could make you feel a little better, then sign me up.
On a lighter note, turn that frown upside down! Wasserstein was hysterical and self-effacing and often times brilliant. Hello Pulitzer! I've lost my favorite Jew. (Judy Gold, all rests on you, baby!) To me, she was a female Woody Allen, except with a soul and a conscience. By watching and reading her plays, I got to peek into a world I never would have seen otherwise. I was a 17 year-old shiksa before I was introduced to Wendy Wasserstein. Hers was the first "Jewish humor" I ever understood. I could actually identify with her characters. I might have felt a connection to her material because it was obviously written for chicks by a chick, not any of that Aurthur Miller crap. But having had the time to think about it, I think I loved her characters because the were such human women, always candid with fabulous, sharp wit to match the honesty. They has neurosis and bad hair days, shrinks and over-bearing mothers. And they talked about it! In my family, if your uterus fell out during Easter dinner, you shut up about it and prayed that it didn't stain the linen table cloth. In her seat at the Tony's, which I never missed, Wasserstein always looked like a normal lady, and I loved it. "Theater people" are sometimes intimidating and ridiculous. Oh, the Tommy Tune nightmares of my youth! But not her.
Any woman who could write so well that thousands of theater go-ers bought Glen Close and Joan Allen as Jewish, could probably 'Jewishize' Kristin Chenoweth. Or my Grandma Ennis. If you knew Grandma Ennis, bless her soul, that would be really, really funny. In heaven, she's busting a gut. Look her up when you get there, Ms. Wasserstein. She, too, is a hoot and a real normal lady.
posted by Shannon E. Ennis at
Monday, January 30, 2006
On a lighter note, turn that frown upside down! Wasserstein was hysterical and self-effacing and often times brilliant. Hello Pulitzer! I've lost my favorite Jew. (Judy Gold, all rests on you, baby!) To me, she was a female Woody Allen, except with a soul and a conscience. By watching and reading her plays, I got to peek into a world I never would have seen otherwise. I was a 17 year-old shiksa before I was introduced to Wendy Wasserstein. Hers was the first "Jewish humor" I ever understood. I could actually identify with her characters. I might have felt a connection to her material because it was obviously written for chicks by a chick, not any of that Aurthur Miller crap. But having had the time to think about it, I think I loved her characters because the were such human women, always candid with fabulous, sharp wit to match the honesty. They has neurosis and bad hair days, shrinks and over-bearing mothers. And they talked about it! In my family, if your uterus fell out during Easter dinner, you shut up about it and prayed that it didn't stain the linen table cloth. In her seat at the Tony's, which I never missed, Wasserstein always looked like a normal lady, and I loved it. "Theater people" are sometimes intimidating and ridiculous. Oh, the Tommy Tune nightmares of my youth! But not her.
Any woman who could write so well that thousands of theater go-ers bought Glen Close and Joan Allen as Jewish, could probably 'Jewishize' Kristin Chenoweth. Or my Grandma Ennis. If you knew Grandma Ennis, bless her soul, that would be really, really funny. In heaven, she's busting a gut. Look her up when you get there, Ms. Wasserstein. She, too, is a hoot and a real normal lady.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home