As people started trickling out of the bar to the Diana Ross concert across the street last night, I started having some regrets, or maybe it was the cocktails kicking in. I said to Jerry that maybe we should have gone to see her after all. After all, I hadn't seen her since 1967 -- Steel Pier, Atlantic City -- when she was still with the Supremes. Back then, I was the ultimate Supremes fan, you know, and to some degree I still am.
But I admit that I'm still holding a grudge against Diana, for the way she treated the other Supremes, Flo and Mary, and, by extension, us the fans (A book I highly recommend: "Dreamgirl: My Life As A Supreme" by Mary Wilson). So I went back to the cocktail and only had fleeting nostalgic interludes.
Yesterday, by the way, was a big anniversary: 50 years since the civil rights March on Washington, where MLK gave his "I have a dream" speech, 8/28/63.
Coincidence: in our catch-up marathon of "Mad Men" (we are in Season 3), last night's episode took place during the week of that 1963 historic march.
I kissed Mary Wilson once, or did I already tell you that? I have never kissed Diana Ross. It's her loss.