Some of the best remembrances are nothing more than a collection of disjointed memories. That’s what this essay from Dan Aykroyd is. Aykroyd and the late Carrie Fisher were engaged to be married at one time, and in this memoriam he focuses not on the bigger picture of their courtship but the smaller moments that still resonate many years later. It’s nearly impossible to encapsulate a person’s soul or influence in words, after all, and Aykroyd’s collection of words, jokes, and recollections provides a uniquely moving look at the actress.
In the essay, he notes how they fell in love on the set of Blues Brothers before touching on his relationship with her family, a romantic Lake Tahoe getaway, and a few small details about their last night together. It’s a passage like the following, however, that hits the hardest:
While in Chicago we obtained blood tests for compatibility from an East Indian female doctor. Contemplating marriage, I gave Carrie a sapphire ring and subsequently in the romance she gave me a Donald Roller Wilson oil painting of a monkey in a blue dress next to a tiny floating pencil, which I kept for years until it began to frighten my children. One of the most brilliant and hilarious minds of our eon, Carrie would say things like: “I love tiny babies. When they cry they turn red and look like screaming tomatoes.” OR “This romance is finished the second you let out even a threep. I’ll be sick for a year.” AND “You have a jawline, hold your chin up otherwise you look like a tuna.” From then on I would identify myself on the phone as Tuna Neck.
Read the whole thing over at Empire.