So much has been said already about the immense contributions Nora Ephron made during her not-quite-long-enough life—to film, journalism, even food—that I’d like to put the spotlight on something more personal.
Nora was a chick. And she loved women. And everything she wrote or created was infused with a love, respect, and sympathy for the myriad crazy ways that women emerge as themselves. Because she was one of us.
She got through a nasty divorce and wrote about it (“Heartburn”). She exposed the funny/raw truths of being single and falling in love (and faking an orgasm, in the infamous Katz’s deli scene of “When Harry Met Sally”). Her love of food and cooking—and a good marriage—lit up “Julie & Julia.”
Nora didn’t (I suspect) want to be a cutting-edge feminist or a Role Model for Women—but she’ll be remembered as all of that and more because she was real, and she wrote about the real stuff women worry about, laugh about, care about.
Kids. Wrinkles. Sex. Sisters. Being happy. Making an amazing vinaigrette.
Oh, and one last thing. I did have the good fortune to meet Nora, just a handful of times when I was younger, through a close friend. And she was really nice, let me tell you.