The Sunday Memory Drawer - Oh, Grow Up

This will be a polarizing blog entry.  Some people will hate it.  Others will love it.  But, folks, that's what makes this forum great.  I can express my opinion.  If you don't like it, move on.

Sort of the way Joan Rivers approached humor.

When her health suddenly and inexplicably spiraled out of control last week, I posted the news on Facebook and announced my sadness as I was a fan.  Several friends took me to task.  How could I possibly like her?  She was mean.  She was this.  She was that.  And, oh, that ugly plastic surgery. 

Yes, the later years found her really becoming her own joke with the excessive face work.  But that still didn't diminish what I always enjoyed from her.  Wonderful, biting humor.  In our overly and disgustingly political correct world, Joan was always a breath of fresh air.  She'd say anything.  And could get away with it.  There are few left who can do that.  I mean, please check out the recent and marvelous documentary that followed her around for a year.  In one year, Joan is trying out some new jokes on her staff.   She wants to know if she can get away with calling Michelle Obama "Blackie O."

Offensive?  Maybe.  Funny to at least me?  Damn skippy. Her humor was fearless.  I remember one joke about going to Sea World with Elizabeth Taylor to see Shamu the whale.   

"Elizabeth took one look at Shamu and asked if it came with vegetables."

This is a woman who joked on 9/12/01 that she was looking to make lunch reservations at Windows on the Ground.   Sure, it makes you gringe.  But Joan Rivers lived on the edge no matter the day or the time.

Yes, this is Sunday and there is an awful lot of Joan Rivers stowed away in my Memory Drawer.  The photo at the top, for one.  It was a record album (remember those?) released several decades ago.   Having discovered Joan Rivers first on the Ed Sullivan Show, I saved my allowance money to get it.  I listened over and over and over.  It was sheer brilliance.  My childhood best friend Leo can attest to some summer nights where I would bring my record player down and we would listen to it on my front stoop. 

Back at that time, Leo and I were also venturing downtown to see tapings of the Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson.  But, oddly enough, Johnny wasn't working the very first show we went to.   Who was the guest host?

You guessed it.

I'm happy to say that I got to see Joan perform about a dozen or so times over the years.   I was never disappointed.   There was one night in a small comedy club in Los Angeles.  There were several shows in various theaters-in-the-round.  About five or so years ago, there was an evening in the Catalina Jazz Club on Sunset Boulevard.  But, there was one performance that will always stand out to me.   And you had to be there.

It was at the Westbury Music Fair on Long Island.  My good pal, Djinn from the Bronx, and I had gone out to see Joan who was opening for some musical act that I have completely forgotten.  On that evening, it was complete serendipity for Joan.  Everything fell completely into place.  She was on fire.   For one stretch during the half-hour set, Joan was so amazingly funny that neither Djinn or I could stop from crying.  We were literally convulsed with laughter as was the rest of the audience.   It just might be the funniest 30 minutes I have  experienced.  Ever.

Okay, the red carpet stuff and the fashion reviews were less interesting to me.  I passed on the reality series that followed her and daughter Melissa around.  But, as for stand up comedy, she might have been one of the best.  Ever. 

It seemed unconscionable that she's gone because she just kept working and working and working.  Two days before she went into cardiac arrest, I had watched on Facebook her own Ice Bucket Challenge.  But, when you're 81, any routine medical procedure with anesthesia can be deadly.  It's particularly unnerving when Joan had just performed the night before at a small New York venue.  It is reported that she mentioned her age to the audience and added that she could go right then and there. 

"You all can say you saw my last show."

And those folks can actually say that.

A writer friend of mine used to sell her jokes.  She'd pay five or seven bucks for a good one and that's how she managed to fill rows and rows of index card files.  My pal vouches that she was great to deal with and credits the start of his career to Joan.  I've heard countless similar stories of her generosity and kindness.

I myself rode an elevator with her for two floors once.  She was recording an interview at one of the places I worked.  I heard this familiar and raspy voice calling out.

"Hold the elevator please!"

Joan got on and I told her that she's one of the few people I would hit the "door open" button for. 

"Well, you're one of the few people I would hold the elevator for, too."

A moment.  A smile.   And she got off on five.

Unlike the usual celebrity nonsense these days, Joan was all by herself.  There was no entourage with her.  No peeps or sycophants.  She went about her business.  On her own.   Oh, sure, she had the bling and the fur and all the trappings.   But she was who she was.   A woman going to tape an interview at a studio.   It was simple as that.

A few days ago, some would-be comic tweeted that "Joan Rivers is on life support and so is the career of daughter Melissa."  Ouch.  Meanwhile, I'm thinking that Joan would have laughed and then asked the question.

"Too soon?"

Never.

Comedy died a little last month with the demise of Robin Williams.  Now the art has really been sucker punched.  With what's going on in the world today, we will miss these laughs a whole lot more than we think.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich, German potato salad, and pickled beets.