an unmarried woman...and me

August 26, 2007

I'm riding in a taxi cab on 57th Street with Jill Clayburgh. We're stuck in traffic in front of the Russian Tea Room. It's a sunny day, but we are bathed in the shadow of a large scaffolding that envelops the Tea Room and the sidewalk in front of it.

I can just make out the trees of Central Park a few blocks North as Jill begins to cry. She's upset about her career, fearing it hasn't turned out the way she had hoped.

"What are you talking about!" I say. "You're JILL CLAYBURGH! An Unmarried Woman...Starting Over. You're a two-time Oscar nominee. And all those great comedies in the 70's. You should be very proud of your career."

We're now in a hotel room overlooking the park. Jill is in a short nightgown covered by a silk robe. We kiss briefly, but somehow it doesn't feel right.

We go out for a walk along what is supposed to be Broadway, but which I actually recognize as the town where I grew up.

We come across a horde of bike riders blocking an intersection. They seem to be holding a demonstration of some sort, but it is decidedly non-violent. In fact, the bikers start to sing The Prayer of St. Francis (Make Me A Channel of Your Peace.)

So beautiful is the singing that Jill and I start to weep quietly in the soft rain that has begun to fall.