Thursday, May 17, 2001

 

Funeral Arrangements

Scranton bid Jason Miller the most fondest of farewells Wednesday morning at St. Patrick's Church in West Side. And like any self-respecting, morally superior gossip columnist, I crashed that ceremony with aplomb. Clad in my best black sequined Bob Mackie number, I sashayed down the aisle and took a seat near the front, like only Jason would have wanted me to. Dabbing my mascara-rimmed eyes with my fluffy mink boa, I near fell out of my pew at the sight of all the Hollywood types gathered 'round.

For starters, Jason's son, Jason Patric, star of "Lost Boys" and "Rush," was a sight for my raccoon-rimmed eyes, so handsome and dapper was he in his charcoal designer suit. And let me tell you, his sensual voice tickled me nasty while he delivered his heartfelt eulogy. Oh, how dirty I felt thinking such unclean thoughts - especially while in church!

Then, of course, there was Jason's tragically hip son, Joshua Miller, an accomplished playwright in his own right, who brought down the house (of god) when he announced: "Hi, I'm Josh .... Jason's Jewish son."

Paul Sorvino was also present up front, and I had to wrestle my way past a trio of blue-haireds and an ornery wheelchair-bound mourner to get closerthanthis to the dapper actor.

"Hey Paulie," I purred most seductively. "What's the secret of your Italian sausage."

The look he gave me was reminiscent of scene from "Goodfellas," so I quickly slithered away, quite sure he wanted to pull a Tony Soprano on me. Quelle dommage, his loss.

Anyhoots, renowned actor and novelist Malachy McCourt (brother of Angela's Ashes, Malcolm McCourt) also cut a distinguished figure at the service, and I often laugh at the memory I have of him answering a young reporter "Ethel Mermen" when asked who should portray him on the big screen. Ethel Mermen would more likely be the big scream.

And I nearly screamed and fainted in my pew when I locked my sites on the delicious Martin Sheen entering the building. Why, if we weren't on sacred ground, lord knows what I would have done to him. But instead, I behaved myself and just winked coquettishly, flashing a bare shoulder and puckering my crimson-tinged lips as he passed by.

"Do you need help taking your medication?" he asked me, seemingly concerned.

I immediately popped a Prozac as he walked away.

And thank the gods that we were all attending a funeral for an esteemed playwright and actor, because, truly, only he could look down and appreciate all the dramatic performances going on below.

For starters, there was the Gospel reading by local matriarchal actress, Agnes Cummings, who read with such vim and vigor, you'd swear she was trying to ace an audition.

Then there was the glowering first wife, Linda Gleason, daughter of world-renown actor Jackie Gleason, and let's not forget Jason's ex-paramour, actress Sandra Bernard, who seemed to be my kind of woman - a little racy and a little saucy all mixed into one.

And what a looker!

But above all, there was the ethereal Dana Oxley, Jason's trusted companion for years now who was the epitome of poise and grace before, during and after the services. Mourners gravitated toward her like moths to a bright light, and I couldn't help myself but to feel my heart break with hers. Her composure was stellar, even though her monumental sadness filters through on her exquisite face. Dana, darling, you know that Jason will always be with you. And Scrantonites everwhere are so glad you're staying in town.

And just as I found myself near bursting into tears, I caught sight of a site that invoked the most Cheshire Kitty grin I could muster. Scranton's soon-to-be ex-Mayor, Jim Connors, bounded up the church stairs, strutting straight into a television interview with Martin Sheen. And although Hizzoner won't be Hizzoner next year, I will truly miss his bravado and penchant for any press opportunity, whether it be Al Gore, Martin Sheen, or anyone in between. Happy trails to you, Jimbo. You sure proved to be great sport and a real gent when it came to this election.

And happy trails to you, darling Jason. I will forever lift my martini glass high in the air in your honor. You gave me the best years of my life as a gossip columnist. What will I ever do without you?

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