Back when he was alive, Edward Gorey used to live around here. Then, sadly, he died, and he didn’t leave a forwarding address.
But I know his old address, and that’s where I went last night for a most delightful soiree. Seems they unearthed some of the original sketches for The Gashleycrumb Tinies, and are putting them up on exhibit at the museum that was once Gorey’s house.
I ran into my old English teacher again… you know, that one…, and we did the kissy-huggy thing and then I asked her if she remembered that night that we met the damn guy (see previous link)… and she didn’t.
How do you not remember something like that? That’s what I want to know.
So I sidled away, feigning interest in the finger food table nearby.
Morosely, I picked at the salmon mousse. (not kidding — there were three platters of salmon mousse.)
Gratifyingly, an older gent in a black Gorey T-shirt then sidled up to me and asked me under what circumstances I had met Gorey, and I told him, and we chatted, and he took my picture.
He believes me, and he wasn’t even there. So there, awesome English teacher who thinks I’m on crack!
Among the many highlights of the evening — besides catching up with an old, dear friend from my childhood, whom I had invited to the reception for that express purpose, and also because we used to act together, and we once did The Gashleycrumb Tinies onstage together (we think she was Susan, we think I was Pru — it’s been quite a while) I think my favorite visual memory of the museum was the life-size doll that was hovering, mid-fall, down the stairs to the second floor, in a perfect imitation of this.
My other favorite moment was telling my friend C. earlier today about this reception I was going to, and his responding “I think anyone who works with children can appreciate The Gashleycrumb Tinies.”
Be that as it may, I enjoyed pressing my nose up to the glass of the home of one of my favorite authors ever.