Jackie Snapshots

In honor of her birthday, which was yesterday.

— “Where is the delivery boy with that fabric morgue??”

— “I had to wear 40 fuckin’ corsets on that shoot. 40 fuckin’ corsets.”

— “I was married to that Nazi bastid for 30 years and I got NOTHIN’.”

— Tequila shots and Caroline

— Doing a production of My Cup Ranneth Over – one of my favorite college productions I ever did. And, like, 40 people saw it.

— At an open mike with her in Chicago. A fuse blew – and the entire bar was plunged into darkness. We were there with Window-boy. There were all these musicians there, with guitars that needed to be plugged in, the microphones didn’t work – no electricity – so the open mike came to a stop – Mayhem ensued. Window-Boy yelled thru the dark at the organizer, “Hey, there’s an a capella group over here!!!” Meaning Jackie and I. So Jackie and I made our way to the stage – PITCH BLACK – the place was packed – people were still drinking – the cash register happened to be an old-fashionied manual one – so you could hear the pounding of the keys – and Jackie and I sang our entire repertoire, a capella, until the lights came back on. One of the most magical nights of my entire time in Chicago. You could have heard a pin drop in that place while we were singing.

— Jackie and I worked in a factory after college. We had to be “on the line” at 6 am. Which meant Jackie had to come and pick me up every morning at 5:15. The headlights of her car pulling into the drive. Coffee in the darkness. Grim silence between us. We sat on the assembly line all day. We met up by the lunch truck on our breaks, to commiserate, share our misery. What on earth were we thinking?

— Our Sunday night dates when I first moved to Chicago: We would walk down the street to My Pie (only the “pie” was spelled with the sign for Pi) – and we would have a mug of beer each, and share a pizza. My favorite pizza joint in Chicago. Then we would walk back to her place and pull the TV out of the closet (she kept it in there for the majority of the time) – to watch Life Goes On – a show we were completely addicted to.

— “He ripped my brown wool leg-wraps.”

— Oh. The carnage we caused.

— All the men we dated. The HOURS of conversation about them. Meeting up for coffee, or drinks .. to talk about this or that man. Supporting each other. Laughing. Crying. Whatever. Just there for each other. I was there on the day she kind of “discovered” that she loved the man who is now her husband. A magical freezing day. They weren’t even dating yet … but something shifted that day. Something shifted.

— I sang at their wedding.

— Jackie and Mitchell came to a Halloween party dressed as Jackie’s grandparents, Chester and Millie. Chester and Millie were just FAMOUS to all of us. And there they are. That is one of my favorite photos of my friends EVER. TAKEN. There is so much that is delicious about it. Look at the anxiety in Mitchell’s eyes. Like … Chester doesn’t know WHAT is going on, and he feels a little bit out of his comfort zone. He is frightened. And look at Jackie’s face. Her mouth is open. Her hand pats Chester’s arm comfortingly. WHAT IS SHE SAYING TO HIM? It’s hilarious. She is so obviously soothing Chester. “It’s all right, dear, it’s all right …”

— There was one infamous day in Chicago when I had double-booked myself. I had a date in the afternoon with one guy, a date in the evening with another guy, and I was stressing out. I was talking with Jackie about it on the phone, and in the middle of the conversation, I got another call and it was a THIRD man calling me up to ask me out for the NEXT day. I am not bragging. It was actually not even a pleasant experience. I felt like: ARGH, all on one weekend? I don’t even LIKE dates!! I hung up with Third Guy and clicked back over to Jackie, and filled her in. “That was Third-Guy. He wants to go out tomorrow.” There was a short pause and Jackie said in a flat emotionless voice, “You are a burning icon in the Chicago sky.”

— One night Jackie and I decided to walk to the beach, in Rhode Island, to see the sunrise. It was a 7 mile walk. This is a story I NEED to write down. The adventures that Jackie and I have … it’s like … WEIRD stuff happens when we’re together. Crazy stuff.

— We were the first to come upon a drunk driving accident once, on a lonely country road, at midnight. We saw a car on its side. It had obviously been coming from the opposite direction, came into our lane, went up on the field embankment, and flipped. It was freaky to be the first ones there. We clearly heard someone moaning in the car. Jackie went running up to one of the dark houses … and banged on the door, shouting for them to call for an ambulance. Within minutes, the entire fire department, police department, and EMT staff came screaming out of the country dark. Jackie and I ended up standing up on a nearby grassy knoll, watching the entire thing. There was a wasted fat gentleman standing up in the car – which was on its side. So he was standing, with his feet on the passenger window, banging against the driver-window which was now above his head. His belly was protruding and hard – a serious beer gut. He looked like he was trapped in a fish tank. He could have not only fucking killed someone, but he could have killed US. If we had come around that corner 15 seconds earlier, he would have smashed right into us. So I have no sympathy for him. He’s lucky he’s alive. Another car came along, and decided to stop and watch – because the whole road was blocked off. Two really cute and friendly college guys stood and watched, and ended up joining Jackie and I on the grassy knoll. MUCH flirting then occurred. We were shamelessly flirting at the scene of a drunken car accident. Jackie and I roared about this later. The EMTs finally got the guy out of the car – and he put up a struggle – A policeman scolded him, saying, “You need to do what we say, sir.” And fat-drunk man uttered these now-mythic words – “I hear ya, trooper!” He said it in a jolly tone, a cooperative tone, a buddy-buddy tone. Also, let’s add on the Rhode Island accent. “I heah yah, troopah!” To this day, Jackie and I still use “I heah ya, troopah” in normal everyday conversation. “I mean, I’m just really upset right now … do you hear what I’m saying?” “I heah yah, troopah.”

— We got to have an enormous stage fight that opened the show of Edwin Drood. I actually got to flip Jackie over a ledge, and she plummeted down through the air. (A mattress was placed at the bottom – out of sight of the audience – for her to land). Can I tell you how fun it was to have a raging FIGHT with Jackie? We rolled down stairs together. We stamped on each other’s feet. We shouted obscenities – in thick Cockney accents. We chased each other up and down the aisles. It has to be the most fun I’ve ever had on stage. So RIDIDCULOUS. And the ending was always the best. When I just grabbed onto her (in a highly rehearsed way, of course) and flipped her over the ledge. hahahaha Also, we were dressed up in mid-19th century Music Hall get-ups – with huge feathers coming out of our heads, and flashy petticoats, and heaving bosoms, and sillks and taffetas – slutty-looking (those Music Hall girls were often prostitutes) and yet – with some of the charm of the era. Not showing EVERYthing. So the two of us – in our Music Hall outfits, and outlandish makeup – beating the crap up out of each other. GLORIOUS!!!

— Morning after a wine-drenched debauched night. Jackie, Brooke and I lay in my bed. Aching with our hangovers. This was in college. We were HURTING. Jackie slowly opened her eyes, perceived her condition for a silent moment, and then stated, flatly, “You could tap my liver and feed communion to a small Catholic church.”

— “Jeremy, wipe your wicked ass.” No way can I ever explain that story – and how it came about – but I can already hear the guffaws from David and Mitchell from here!!

Oh, there’s so much more!!!