Letters to the columnist
WHAT I’ve done wrong — or maybe I did something right, who knows — but I’m inundated with mail. Letters to me usually begin, “Dear Stupid . . .” Anyway, here goes . . . Mr. Schneider claims his wife is NYC’s No. 1 nanny (who voted, who knows but in play school their 1 ¹/2-year-old son kissed a little girl playmate), and he writes me, “We now hope he won’t grow up to be Harvey Weinstein.”
One dated 1/1/18 reprises a New York Athletic Club dinner with one of then-president JFK’s “protection team who, receiving a call, said: ‘Got to skip dessert. Must go to the Carlyle. JFK’s with his redheaded girlfriend Judith Exner.’ The writer, knowing a Chappaquiddick/Ted Kennedy film is coming, then adds a crateload of salty anti-Kennedy remarks.
From Clearwater, Fla., comes a card with Trump’s smiling face surrounded by heartshaped balloons and now belated caption: “Make Valentine’s Day Great Again!” Also, DJT’s voice speaks. Anybody itching for that come next Feb. 14, the thing’s on Amazon.
From Georgia, “Suzanne” IDs herself as my public school friend and recalls “the day I asked if you’d come home, yet my mother said, ‘No,’ but recalls your mother waiting and frantic because you were late. Moments passed, you came in and we then went upstairs to play.” If Suzanne reads this, I thank her for her note, but can’t remember that far back. Fact is, I don’t even remember where I was Monday. Someone named MacLeod from Boston recalls being part of “West Side Story” tryouts years ago with Chita Rivera — and then the movie had Rita Moreno and George Chakiris — and this person writes: “When I was backstage with all the costumes and sets arriving, each of those packing cases was stamped ‘Gangway.’ That was apparently the original title.”
Praise away!
FEB. 5, Patrick from New York sent his view that I am the most wonderful scrivener and my column is brilliantly written — so I definitely find him the greatest letter writer since Hemingway. Maybe not Ernest — maybe Irving Hemingway.
From Fordham University Press’ Henry: “York Avenue was named for onetime conscientious objector Alvin C. York, who became our best hero silencing 35 German machine guns, killing 15 enemy soldiers and taking 125 prisoners on Oct. 8, 1918. He emerged from the service with the Medal of Honor.”
This is on me?
OCT. 16. Ellen Easton: “House Beautiful should know their picture has the fork on the wrong side with water and wine glasses in the wrong place. Doesn’t a shelter magazine know how to set a table? It is a disservice to print incorrect content. The public looks to these ‘experts’ as a higher standard. They have a responsibility to get it right.” “Counterterrorism expert”
Jeannie writes of certain streetcorner gypsies, the ones with shops all over. “I picked up the pieces after one got into a client’s fragile emotional makeup and basically destroyed the person psychologically.” And she says: “Do something about this.”
WE can’t write the Rev. Billy Graham anymore, but we can send up a prayer. I recall him playing himself in a TV drama, our sharing Barbara Walters’ table at an event, his throwing out the first ball in Atlanta. It’s what I, myself, personally remember — but our whole world will always remember the Rev. Billy Graham.