Fuck.
I didn’t know Grace Paley had died. A brief story:
On an assignment, I went to a restaurant in Tribeca to cover a party. I got there early, so for a while it was only me and an elderly couple. Because they were so quiet & inconspicuous, I figured they were tourists.
When the old man went to the can, I went over and said, “I’m [insert name of devastatingly handsome man here]. I’ll be your reporter and waiter tonight. Can I get you anything?”
“Oh, that’s very sweet of you,” she said. She gave me a drink order. “Nice to meet you. I’m Grace Paley.”
I kept my cool and wet her whistle.
I’ve always been more into Babe Paley than Grace, myself.