{"id":27055,"date":"2017-06-22T00:16:10","date_gmt":"2017-06-22T07:16:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/barbarafalconernewhall.com\/?p=27055"},"modified":"2017-06-22T00:16:10","modified_gmt":"2017-06-22T07:16:10","slug":"i-was-important","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/i-was-important\/","title":{"rendered":"For One Night I Was Important Again. Thank You Armistead Maupin"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"I<\/a>
At the cast party for “The Untold Tales of Armistead Maupin,” I was important enough to score quality time with actor Jonathan Groff. Photo by Jon Newhall<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

By Barbara Falconer Newhall<\/em><\/p>\n

I was popular. No, it was better than that. For one magical evening, I was important. Important! People were coming up to me\u00a0wanting to talk. They wanted to hear what I had to say. I told my jokes, dished out my opinions, and people\u00a0listened. They took\u00a0me seriously. It seemed I was important, somebody who mattered.<\/p>\n

I had forgotten what\u00a0it’s like to be\u00a0important.<\/p>\n

I know what you’re thinking. Authentic\u00a0self-esteem does\u00a0not depend on externals\u00a0like the New York Times best-seller list or\u00a0other people’s willingness to talk to you at a party. Everybody can and should lay claim to a healthy sense of\u00a0self-worth because — just because. Everybody is important. Every human life matters. Every person, young and perky or old and rickety, is a thing of beauty. \u00a0Blah. Blah. Blah.<\/p>\n

\"movie<\/a>
Titles for “The Untold Tales of Armistead Maupin” at the Castro Theater screening. Photo by Barbara Newhall<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

And I’m telling you, it’s not like that. Not when you and your body have moved into life’s final quarter. You’ve left the job market. The kids have moved to London, New Zealand, Romania. (I’m serious. I’ve seen it happen.) The world out there doesn’t depend\u00a0on you any more. Not like it used to.<\/p>\n

You blend into the background now, and so does your body. Your bust line blends into\u00a0your waistline, which merges\u00a0with\u00a0your hips, which can’t be distinguished from your thighs. And you in general kinda disappear\u00a0as all the important people in the room chat each other up with a vigor that you’d\u00a0rather not have to summon, thank you.<\/p>\n

The only person who notices\u00a0whether you’ve gotten out of bed in the\u00a0morning these days is your spouse.<\/p>\n

If you’ve got a spouse, that is. And I recommend having one. Here’s one good reason why: I slept in till 11 a.m. the other day, thanks to an over-enthusiastic antihistamine. Jon was alarmed, so much so that he\u00a0finally peeked into\u00a0the\u00a0bedroom to make sure I wasn’t dead. Jon was not overreacting. He was astutely playing the odds. When you’ve got 75 years to your credit\u00a0and you’re still out flat\u00a0at 11 a.m., odds\u00a0are you aren’t sleeping off the previous night’s excesses. There’s a good chance\u00a0you’ve\u00a0breathed your last.<\/p>\n

Spouses can come in handy in situations like this. Who wants to be dead and stinky for weeks and weeks before\u00a0the neighbors\u00a0notice and call the health department?<\/p>\n

A Soir\u00e9e for Armistead Maupin<\/h5>\n

But back to that magical evening when I was so, so popular\u00a0and to that soir\u00e9e of cool people who folded me cheerfully into their glamorous circle, if only for a night.<\/p>\n