SHELLEY LIST REMEMBERED

On May 25th, as I traveled to Toronto, my mind flashed back to a decade earlier, when another plane carrying Shelley List, Jonanthan Estrin, Elizabeth Taylor, Carol Burnett and me (along with Elizabeth's parrot) landed in Toronto launching us all on the unforgettable adventure of filming Shelley's novel, "Nobody Makes Me Cry." It was to become the HBO movie, "Between Friends."

I first met Shelley after reading her book, which impressed and moved me by its honesty, humanity and intrinsic humor. It was Shelley's paean to the women's consciousness-raising decade we had passed through. She wrote with an unnerving but gentle candor about the delicacy of human relationships and the fragility of their nature. Drawing deeply from her richly endowed gift of compassion, Shelley gave freely of her own self-perceptions that resonated not only her personal but our societal struggle "to connect." But it was Shelley's laughter that most captured my attention. It was embellished by a dazzling twinkle in her eyes that reflected her soul--one totally absent of malice or mean-spiritedness. No, Shelley's only joy came from inspiring others to fulfill the best in themselves--and always demanding of herself to give.

The book was adapted for the film by Shelley and life-partner Jonathan List and was the vehicle that brought Elizabeth and Carol together for the first time. The film was a first for all of us in many ways. It predicted a successful writing and producing career for Shelley and Jonathan. It was one of the first films ordered by Jane Deknetal, who had just taken over at HBO. It was only the second film for our fledgling company.

Now, I was landing in Toronto for the first time in thirteen years to commence production on our 25th film. On the way to the hotel, I recalled that 1983 infamous entrance our entourage made into the Four Seasons Hotel: the ladies, producers, body guards and parrot. While I struggled with my own feelings of inadequacy and a painful shyness that kept me tongue-tied in the presence of Elizabeth and Carol, Shelley bound us all together with her keen sense of our common humanness. We were cocooned in a web of unusual trust of one another. And always, always, her laughter permeated the air.

It echoed in the car as it pulled up in front of a different hotel in a different part of the city, in a different season. It was a rain-chilled evening, but I was warmed by the free floating memories of another time. Though I was along, I wasn't lonely. I had such a vivid sense of friendship in those memories. It had literally become an experience "Between Friends."

Not many days later, the phone call came from Jane Deknetal telling me of Shelley's passing. I sat a long time in the growing darkness remembering. In meeting and knowing Shelley, I most recalled Shelley as a "giver." Her life was measured easily by her unfiltered compassion--especially for those who suffered in nameless places, but were never faceless to Shelley. It was there, in her commitment to Operation U.S. that we best knew her. She made us acutely aware of our priorities; she spoke to use from a spiritual center that palpably fueled her personhood.

It was this spiritual center where Shelley and I truly met. I marveled at her ease and comfort in sharing that center. Where others could, would not, we spoke openly of our spiritual quest: to integrate that aspect of our person life with our professional lives.

Shelley had that profound an impact on everyone her life touched. A line from her book, and from the film as well, remains the most memorable. It was spoken by Carol's character to her teen-aged daughter. Out of their angst-filled relationship and in a moment of raw revealing love, she declares, "You crack my heart."

Well, Shelley, you cracked mine, and all who loved you, and love you still.

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