This past Tuesday, May 19, would have been Nora Ephron’s 74th birthday.
My heroine. Gone way too soon.
But I read recently that she had kept a file on her computer labelled “Exit.”
(She herself had pilfered the idea from Henry Grunwald, former editor of Time Magazine.)
In the document, she meticulously limned out in detail all the desired particulars of her funeral. The Where, the Who, the What.
All that was missing was the When.
Nora’s memorial service was held on July 9, 2012 in Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center. (In New York City. But I didn’t have to tell you that.)
She specified the choice and order of speakers- among them, Martin Short, Tom Hanks, her sister Delia, Mike Nichols, Meryl Streep and Nora’s two son’s, Max and Jacob Bernstein.
Here’s a bit of Tom Hanks’ tribute.
She chose music by Cole Porter.
Her flowers were enormous bouquets of hydrangeas with full clutches of berries and leaves to match her East Hampton garden.
The guest list was kept down to 800 of her close friends and family. In other words, the elite of the artistic, social and political worlds.
The program bore a wonderful photo of her and a treasured recipe.
She even stipulated the length of the service- forty-seven minutes.
And when the guests filed out, they were greeted by waiters bearing glasses filled with Nora’s favorite pink Champagne.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been to a few memorials lately, but I really like the idea of DIY-in-advance funerals.
Here’s my estate plan.
When I bite the earthly dust, I do not want to be planted in it. I want the shake ‘n bake.
I know. This burnt offering does not appeal to everyone but it suits me down to the ground. (Sorry.)
Then I want my cremains to be equally divided into two portions. I want Nick to take half of me and throw me down Gowdy’s- a gnarly run on Snowmass Mountain.
And I want Natasha to take the other half of my ashes to my beloved Florence and toss me in the Arno.
I’ll give her a list of great places to buy gloves and jewelry. And the names of must-visit ristorantes. Starting with this one.
As to the service, I want a party. I love throwing a party and I want this last bash to be no different.
Flowers? Red RED roses everywhere.
Music? Happy Trails To You.
The caterer? I’m temporarily stymied on that one.
Does anyone remember Patrick Collins, the very exclusive caterer? He had some racket going. You couldn’t call him. His number was unlisted. You had to be recommended by another client. Then he decided if you were party-worthy or not.
We must have made the grade because he did a fabulous party for us in Winnetka years ago. Followed by a fabulous bill.
Which we paid promptly.
A YEAR later, Patrick still hadn’t cashed our check. His dilettante way with money matters was screwing up the household books. My annoyed then-husband made a call only to find out that Patrick had gone back to Ireland with lots of checks still uncashed.
To this day, I have no idea if he ever cashed ours.
So at the moment, I don’t have a favorite caterer to do my farewell party. That’s ok. I’m leaning towards Superdawg or Beinlich’s doing the food honors, anyway.
You’re all invited, by the way.
(But I haven’t picked the speakers yet so don’t RSVP any time real soon.)
Happy Memorial Day, everyone.
Now take a look at this clip.
I know Nick has seen it but I just want to remind him.
A cautionary tale, if you will.
Nick does call me ‘Dude,” after all.
Ellen, I know it’s Memorial Day weekend and all that, but let’s cut to the chase — this is the unofficial start of summer. The early season pretenders have started to regress to their natural level, the full season contenders have started to emerge, and we can start taking baseball seriously. So when it comes to “Happy Trails” — don’t start planning your funeral yet because we need to have that song piping through the stadium speakers to send the opposing pitcher to the showers after our home team rally knocks him out of the box.
I had no idea. Is this a Twins thing? Well, too bad. When The Big Manager sends me to The Locker Room In The Sky, this is what I want playing me out.
But okay on the “later rather than sooner” bit. Thanks, Doc. Happy Summer.
That’s a good Google project to determine how wide-spread the practice is. I’m counting on my memory, especially from when the Twins were in the World Series.
Boy, give a busy person something to do…But when you’re done with that project, I expect you to get started polishing up my eulogy. (Or will that be a love letter to baseball, too?)
E-
At first I thought I’d comment on the depth of the choice of Happy Trails. But then you had to bring up Superdawg, site where I asked my wife to tie the knot. Not sure of the exact dates I’m about to cite, but on or about May 16, 1996 I picked my wife up at the airport from a business trip. I had rented a limo and told her that I won it at a golf outing. We proceeded to the Superdawg, where there was some champagne on ice awaiting us. I dropped to my knees and popped the cork and the question. She was so loopy from Dramamine, by the way, she still probably considers contesting the “yes” as borderline consent.
The owner of Superdawg, Maurie Berman was a member of Robin’s parents congregation. He was very generous with a wedding gift and anniversary coupons. Mr. Berman, alas went on his happy trail just a couple of weeks ago, on or about the anniversary of that great day in my life. We were sad to learn of his passing as he was a very kind man. So it will be an honor to have a Woopskiedawg in your honor as we celebrate your life…again, later rather than sooner. Sorry to make your Exit about me. But yum!
I love this! So many great tie-ins. I had no idea you popped the question at Superdawg. Nice! And I really felt sad when I read that Mr. Berman had died. He brought so much joy into my life. And hope to see you there before I bite The Big One. Thanks, pal. Happy Summer to you and yours.
Funny post Ellen. Frankly I’m at a loss as to how you can come up with so many things to write about, not to mention the twice weekly pressure of delivering. It’s obviously a labor of love but still I know the work involved must overwhelm at times. Still, keep going!
I have a question. Cammillo, pictured above must have been a go to place for you when you lived in Florence, or at least remains one of your favorites. Lisa and I had a remarkable dinner in Florence about 10 years ago which was recommended to us by the American educated, quite lovely daughter and partner with her father in one of the leather places (factories as they all called them) just over the Arno on the Ponte Veccio. Lisa was having some red leather pants made and we had a lengthy conversation with the daughter whom I believe was Ivy League educated.
She recommended her favorite local dinner place and even made the Rez. It was fabulous, family run for decades and about a mile into town, located in a mostly residential area. We always wished we had taken a photo or a card or just written down the name. I know it’s a long shot but you know the town intimately. It was in an old building (I know – they all are), the menu was recited completely each night, and at each table by the grandfather, chef who spoke with a terribly thick and charming accent. The one distinguishing piece of info I can offer up is that after describing each and every dinner choice, which changed nightly, the chef/grandfather would say, heavily accented, “but if you like we can” ….in effect alter the dish a bit. We went twice and my recollection is that the outside resembled the pic above. They also served – at least cocktails – al fresco in the front. I know it’s unlikely, but ring any bells? I’d love to be able to recommend this place.
Either way, thanks and have a great Holiday! BTW, my favorite funeral was for one of my Sr. Partners years ago who had a friend read a lovely and funny piece he had prepared and he ended it with ” my parting gift to you all is that there will be no Shiva!”
Mi dispiace, amico mio. The place you describe sounds fabulous but not Cammillo. No cocktails outside- although it is on the Borgo San Jacopo right in centro. Andiamo in Italia and let’s find your posto. I’m ready! Have a great holiday, my friend. Regards to Tommy.
Suoni favoloso!
“Sounds fabulous?” Si, signore. Grazie.
Ellen:
I’m sorry my friend, but as everyone’s younger brother, I can’t even begin to imagine thinking about my funeral arrangements. Frankly, you aren’t that much older, so I think you are really a bit premature in your planning. I like to plan 6 months to a year out. (Too many variables in my life if I go further out.) Conversely, I try not to concentrate on the immediate week or two.
So, to be contrarian to the Memorial Day weekend post, here is to not thinking about these things until we hit 90! We are All too interesting to live one minute less than that!
Let all the people who “merely exist” have the earlier exit. Every one who really “lives” should have a very long expiration date stamped on the ass.
Scott
Happy Memorial Day!!!
I heartily endorse your sentiments, Scott. I am all for living life to the fullest. But I want to have a great send-off and I want to be the empressario. Hopefully this party won’t be booked for quite some time. My dear Nora did not have that luxury. Happy Summer, Scott. And thanks.
Love today’s blog. Here is the song I want at my service;
I saw her today at the reception
A glass of wine in her hand
I knew she would meet her connection
At her feet was a footloose man
No, you can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometime you find
You get what you need
I saw her today at the reception
A glass of wine in her hand
I knew she was gonna meet her connection
At her feet was a footloose man
You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes well you might find
You get what you need
You can’t always get what you want but I wanted this comment. Thanks, Mitch. Good song choice.
My wife said that when I die she is calling a taxidermist, but only for certain anatomical parts. Silly me, I thought she meant the head on my shoulders….
No comment.
The gifts that Nora Ephron gave to me were her movies, especially those with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks, to which I return every two years or so. As for the afterlife, I have long favored cremation, although I have altered my original plan, which was to have my ashes launched into the Seine from a bridge in Paris. Now the thought is to have my ashes mingled with Anne’s and spread around one of our favorite Cape May birding destinations. We have yet to put this in writing, but since we are going to die young at 93 we have world enough and time.
What a lovely comment and plan. Bravo and long may you both bird.