I Made Jon Swift Laugh

Yesterday for some strange reason I had the urge to write a little post wondering where two bloggers had disappeared to. One of those bloggers was Jon Swift. You can imagine the chill that hit me when I read tonight that he had died.
A couple of years ago New Critics founder Tom Watson was kind enough to invite me to the first anniversary celebration of the blog, which included a reception and a showing of a Miami Vice episode on the second floor of the Paley Center in NY.
I had relatives in NYC and I had some business there, but really I was most excited at the prospect that I might meet the devilishly amusing Mr. Swift.
I’m really not stoked by the sometimes Byzantine, sometimes just plain crass and stupid world of political blogging, but Jon Swift made me laugh. He had an almost delicate ear for the absurd combined with a bunker busting way of delivering a punch. Or maybe it was more like a neutron bomb---he killed, but managed to leave the buildings standing.
I have to admit I felt a little awkward that night, in the small reception room at the Paley and wondered if I had made a mistake by coming. That is until Tom brought an unassuming—I have to say it—schlub of a guy over to me and introduced him. “This is Jon Swift.”
We made introductions. I told him I ran a bowling center and he said he was a writer and mentioned that he had written a book about Rebel Without A Cause. And I become doubly delighted because I had just read his book. And I loved it. I didn’t have to lie, although I didn’t mention that I had bought it off the markdown table. Frankly, I was surprised I liked it because not only don’t I like books about specific movies, I never really cared for this movie in particular. But I had liked it. In fact I had read it just about as fast as I’ve read any book.
He told me he had commented on my blog as himself (or Rebel, that is) on a post I did about Cornershop's Brimful of Asha. I remembered that comment, I said as I was able to remember every comment on my blog-there were so few. He replied with something gracious that I have modestly forgotten.
Al told me he was considering moving out of the city and going to law school. Writing wasn’t paying the bills and the city was became a plaything for the rich. I replied that I had been trying to get out of my business for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was also economic.
When it was time for the showing we all filed into the Mark Goodson Theater. I walked in with Al and, after reading the name of the theater, remarked, “What, no love for Bill Todman?” Al laughed and said, “I was just thinking the same thing.”
After the showing, the party moved to a nearby bar, but I didn’t follow the gang. I headed back downtown, I just wasn’t in the mood. Looking back, I’m not sorry I didn’t get to know him better. I’d be a lot sadder right now, and really what more did I need? After all, I had made Jon Swift laugh.