Dear Adrienne:

I know you’ve got a birthday coming up on Sunday so I wanted to write to you and mark the occasion. I never did commemorate your turning 40, although you were probably grateful about that. It was almost a year ago that I wrote after the distance of, what, six, seven years to ask “you still there?” When you wrote right back to say that, yes, you were still there and how great things were going, I really thought we’d really get a chance to catch up. Ah, well. I often think of that Sonny Liston quote: “Life a funny thing.”

So I’ll ask the stupid question first, to get it out of the way. How are you? I can’t imagine what the answer to that question might be… but I can’t not ask it. It’s like when a loved one is headed out and you say “Drive carefully.” You can't not say it. You just want them to get where they’re going because that’s the quickest way for them to get back to you.

I’m good. Barbara and I had our son on May 12^th and he’s six weeks old tomorrow. He’s a funny little cuss, a bit spidery, still figuring out this strange new world and finding much to frustrate him. He has this little pterodactyl cry that’s very funny, at least to us. (Why do we find our kids’ anguish so funny? Well, we just do.) But every day he starts fresh. You’ve got to admire that about kids… they don’t set out to fail, they don’t dwell on giving up… every day it’s just headlong into the infinitely possible, with every wound forgotten or forgiven. And he’s smiling now, a lot. And it’s not just gas, I don’t care what Dr. Spock or the Searses say. We named him Victor, after Vic Argo. Did you know Vic? I know you saw him in my stuff often enough and we were all part of the same West Bank scene for so long, but I wonder if you ever spoke to him at any length? Well, suffice to say he wound up being a good friend to us and we were very sad with his death three springs ago and it's nice to have cause to say his name again on a daily basis.

It was nice seeing the grosses for Waitress on the evening entertainment news, right up there with the big franchise movies. And it’s great seeing your movie get TV ads and big full page ads in The New York Times… you know (and please don’t take this the wrong way) “just like a real movie.” When you wrote to me and told me you had Nathan Fillion in your film, I had no idea who you were talking about. I’ve since seen him in a few things and he’s got a real star quality—he was a great find for you and he’s got a great career ahead of him. No matter what he does, I’ll always think of him as an Adrienne Shelly actress, first and foremost. I wonder if I’ll ever have a chance to tell him that.

So, I have to confess that I haven’t actually seen Waitress yet. I’m a little afraid to. It’s one thing to throw on IFC and catch a few minutes of Trust or something you did years before I knew you but I’m not sure how I’m going to feel when you walk on screen in this. I guess I’m a little afraid of how sad that will make me, even though I’m sure the sum of its goodness will more than compensate. I'm being kind of a chicken about it, aren't it? And this from a guy who's movie collection is rich in titles with the words "blood" and "horror" in it. (I still remember you making a study of my VHS collection way back when and remarking "Richard, you have some really strange movies.") I’ll get to it, though. Maybe when it comes out on DVD. And that way I’ll have seen all of your movies in different media – Sudden Manhattan at the cinema, I’ll Take You There with you in the editing suite and Waitress on DVD.  I'll even buy a copy, how about that?

But anyway. I’m sure you have lots to do. You were always busy and nothing will ever change that. I think of you every day. I have your picture up on the wall above my desk. When my daughter asks for Sesame Street, I feel your parental spirit, remembering how we laughed at how much of that show we had to watch with our kids. There’s this little tune that the public TV station out here in Los Angeles plays for its commercial spots… actually it’s a White Stripes song, and it always brings you to mind.

Tonight I'll dream while in my bed
When silly thoughts go through my head
About the bugs and alphabet
And when I wake tomorrow I'll bet
That you and I will walk together again
I can tell that we are going to be friends

Well, that’s all. Let’s both get back to work. I'll never forget you, Adrienne. And for what it's worth, Happy Birthday.

Love, RH