Time: near the end of a leisurely dinner. Place: Restaurant 15 Main, Narrowsburg, New York. Frank Sinatra’s recording of “Thanks for the Memory” is playing in the background.
SHE I never liked that song.
HE Well–
SHE Don’t say it–I already know what you’re going to say. “Well, I like it.” Of course you like it. You’re got more in common with your parents’ generation than with ours.
HE What do you mean? I know twice as much about rock and roll as you do.
SHE Yeah, but you never hung out in bars and danced with girls when you were in high school.
HE I was always on the bandstand. And how come you don’t like “Thanks for the Memory”?
SHE It’s corny.
HE (with mock outrage) What do you mean, corny? It’s one of the greatest list songs ever written.
SHE One of the what?
HE List songs. You know, songs whose lyrics are a list. “You’re the Top” is the locus classicus of the genre. “You’re the National Gallery/You’re Garbo’s salary/You’re cellophane.” (Triumphantly) What do you say to that?
SHE It’s still corny.
She rolls her eyes.
* * *
Decide for yourself: