Every morning, on the subway, Lydia reminds herself that she is happy. She has an apartment with heat and a window and plumbing, and a boyfriend who takes her to dinner. She's healthy, not fat, and has a pretty face and a job that pays most of her bills. Construction workers still say rude things to her, and the nice Indian guy at the corner deli always throws in a free bag of Ruffles no matter what else she buys.
She is happy, damn it. Very happy. Finger-snapping, head-bopping, puddle-skipping happy. Sing-aloud happy.
For 20 minutes she almost convinces herself.
fresh-baked at 11:22 PMI'd like to tell Lydia it's all going to be all right, but she's not that gullible, is she?
Offered by: Jeffrey on May 6, 2008 4:37 PMHmm. Lydia intrigues me. I wonder what she feels she is missing.
Offered by: Brad on May 6, 2008 12:47 PMLydia needs to spend half a day at Mrs. Z's house. When it's time for her to go back home, she will go bouncing back to her own house feeling ecstatic for the rest of her life. Isn't that right, Jodi?!?!?
Offered by: Mrs. Z on May 6, 2008 12:00 PM
A decade or so later, after some really appalling movies with Jerry Reed and an equally sordid marriage to "actor" Burt Reynolds, the former Lydia Oppenheimer, known to the world by her pseudonym, Sally Fields, takes to the stage clutching a little gold statuette.
Tears streaming down her face, she blurts out the words that ultimately kill her career and will be repeated with ridicule over and over again.
"You like me! You really, really like me!"
And for those 20 seconds that seem to stretch into an eternity before the house orchestra begins to play her offstage, she really, really believes it.
Offered by: Roger Ebert on May 5, 2008 11:33 PM
