RIP James Gandolfini
Sometimes, we never forget where we were when we found out. I was on the subway above ground when I received a text from a friend about Michael Jackson's death, amidst at least fifty other subway patrons who had no idea that the news of an icon lost was about to sweep the nation. Yesterday, I was walking home from a happy hour with a family member when I received a spontaneous call from a best friend in Brooklyn (remember those? spontaneous calls, I mean) and after a few minutes of this and that, she added that Oh yeah, Tony Soprano died. He was fifty-one. The moment is thrown off, your step sideswiped, as years of Sunday evening Soprano dedication distract from the obligation that is next, and a fictional yet poignant relationship with someone you never actually met shattered. Rest in Peace, J.G., and thank you for half a decade of Sunday night perfection. Enjoy!
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It's nice that we had him, that we shared the Soprano family so much that we made it ours. Oh, the uproar when it ended! Now, all I hear today is that he was such a sweet guy, so unlike his famous persona. So sad, so sad. A family member did pass today.
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