July 14th, 2009

I slowly made my way through the Polo Lounge Restaurant at the Beverly Hills Hotel, careful not to gawk at whatever celebrity might be dining at the same establishment. When my eyes did stray I noticed that everyone around was tall, perfectly tan, and dressed in crisp, freshly pressed garments. I was wearing a white dress with a matching black and white coat, slightly crumpled from the plane ride to L.A.. My skin is hopelessly white. It’s as if I’ve never been around the sun. One would think my parent’s were polar bears. My new shoes were pinching my feet and I walked with a slight limp. Something didn’t belong in this setting and it was clearly me. That fact became even more obvious when Walter Hill met Howard Kazanjian at our table. Sitting between two legendary film makers who were polished and poised and discussing the art of film making with reverence, I blurt out “So, how about those Long Riders.” The Long Riders is a great western Walter Hill produced. He kindly responded, but clearly I didn’t belong there. I was dumb-struck by the setting and company and from what I can remember, was barely able to string two sentences together that made sense and that didn’t include the expression, “Holy Cow!” Walter was nice and complimentary of the book Thunder Over the Prairie and I was thrilled with that. He will be adapting the material to the screen. Until everything comes together and the film premiers my part is done. All I can think is Holy Cow! I’m off to San Antonio tomorrow to the Western Writers History Association conference. It should be a real learning experience. I can only hope one of the things I learn is another phrase to express my enthusiasm and admiration. “Holy Cow” is getting a little old.