All My Friends Are Movie Stars

All my friends are movie stars. I’m not sure when this trend began, several years ago I think, but its in full force now.
There’s the nice young man at the bank who remembers all my account numbers for me and is something of a financial guru, Jeremy Irons.
And there’s the funeral home director, Jimmy Stewart, who I invariably introduce to someone else about once a month, as I attend the funerals of all the people who used to seem like old folks to me.
There’s the publisher at the paper who I have asked for as Calvin Klein. You can imagine the blank stares this produced.
Can you imagine how surprised my kids were to learn that my first date in high school was with Jerry Falwell?
Of course, there’s my old high school buddy, Lorne Greene.
“Do you think he noticed that I called him Lorne Greene?” I asked my husband after I introduced them at a little league game a few years ago.
“Maybe his hearing isn’t what it used to be,” answered my husband.
One can only hope.
“Who is Lorne Greene?” asked a young friend recently when I was explaining my movie star problem.
Okay, if you’re under forty, and you actually read my column, which is doubtful unless you are my children, in which case you read faithfully to see what I’m writing about you publically this week, Lorne Greene is the dad on Bonanza. My kids already know this because one of them has a thing about Bonanza and the rest of us have suffered through re-runs for approximately ten of his twelve years of life.
Lorne Greene passed away in 1987. This could be awkward if I have to introduce him to anybody else besides my husband.
I don’t know who attended Lorne’s funeral, but I assume it was a bunch of movie stars. I wasn’t invited.
Speaking of funerals, have you noticed that the obituary pictures just got a lot bigger in one of our regional newspapers?
Personally, I think this is a great marketing idea. Obviously, there are some of us who turn to the obits first every morning. Sad, but true.
Now, I can see those bigger pictures without my reading glasses. This is a great mercy because I can’t always remember where my glasses are.
I suspect my friend, Cindy Crawford, who helps me with the housekeeping, is hiding them from me.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http:/checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.