I Know I Know Her!
So I was ready to march over to this woman that I knew I knew, determined to jog my memory, when my friend stopped me.
During an opening-night Hollywood party for some world-premiere play, I glanced over toward concessions and saw someone so alluringly familiar. It drove me a little crazy that I couldnâ€™t remember who it was, particularly because I had just had a conversation with a friend about fading memory.
When I was younger, I used to make endless fun of my parents for forgetting names and dates, and with the arrogance of youth, I never believed that would ever happen to me. Then, when I hit 40, it did indeed start happening to me. â€œWhatâ€™s that movie with that guy who does the thing?â€ I now asked friends. Always just out of reach, and right on the tip of my tongueâ€”it would take me hours or even days sometimes to retrieve the lost information somewhere in the pop-culture section of my brain. Oh, dear.
So I was ready to march over to this woman that I knew I knew, determined to jog my memory, when my friend stopped me. â€œThatâ€™s Mary-Louise Parker, from _Weeds.â€_
Ah, yes, the familiar face from my television family. Itâ€™s alarming how comfortable we are with perfect strangers, just because we see them in a weekly series or a film. We completely relate to the character and, as the filmmaker intends, we are drawn into their world, temporarily forgetting our own. So with advancing age, reality and fiction sometimes collide. Luckily, this time around, I collected myself before making that embarrassing social faux pas.
I vowed never to venture out unescorted by protective friends again whenever I might encounter the odd celebrityâ€”which in this town could be anywhere. Good thing I have lots of friends.