In Springdale Town by Robert Freeman Wexler

catch, but let’s say it was at a wedding, in the back yard of a house on a wooded riverside). Several years ago, the woman had an affair with the groom, during his previous marriage (though she wasn’t the woman who the previous wife found out about, that was someone named Matilda). They paused their conversation to give their orders to the waitress: BLTs, one with French fries the other with onion rings. I looked at the menu. Fried chicken would be nice, but I didn’t want something so substantial for lunch.
    The groom they spoke of was a reporter for a local television station. His new wife worked at a bank, a relationship manager, whatever that is. “Can you imagine anything sadder than waiting to take over an anchor spot on the local news?” the woman said. “Those guys never retire. They just get more and more fossilized.”
    “He’s going to have to move to a larger market. More jobs.”
    “Male anchors, of course. Women have to disappear before they start aging.”
    The waitress brought them drinks and turned to ask what I wanted. I said grilled cheese with onion rings. A nicely-made onion ring is a wondrous thing. For those unfamiliar with the delicacy, here’s a basic recipe: Slice an onion latitudinally (taking root end as south, green end as north); pull apart the rings; dip rings in batter or dip in milk and then in flour or bread crumbs, then fry. A deep fryer is best, but pan frying works. And some history, from this website: http://www.barrypopik.com/index.php/new_york_city/entry/french_fried_onion_rings/: 29 May 1910, New York Sun (New York Public Library’s Susan Dwight Bliss collection, pg. 195): “A novelty that progressive New York restaurants are introducing with great appreciation from their patrons is one that can be reproduced at home without difficulty—French fried onions. In flavor and appearance they bear little relation to the usual breakfast dish, and which, moreover, are possible to many to whom ‘for the stomach’s sake’ the others are impossible. The sweet Bermuda onion is used for this new dainty. It is cut thin to resemble French fried potatoes. Before cooking dredge with flour. Fry quickly in a wire basket in hot deep fat until crisp, brown, and free of grease. Very delicious as an accompaniment for beef steak, or, in fact, good with almost any kind of red meat.”
    ~
    With the intrusion of plates, their talk slackened but didn’t end. Listening, I became confused, realized that I had been mistaken. They weren’t talking about people they knew; I recognized the names: from a television show I had watched in a motel room the previous night. The show was one of those ensemble-cast things, with inter-connected stories and intersecting groups of characters. Actually fairly interesting the way it’s put together. There’s the sad musician–a bass player for a successful band who fled the city with his photographer wife who’s now his ex-wife; her new husband, who runs a store that sells and installs miniature trains for parks or the yards of the wealthy; her restaurant-owner brother; the guy who runs a small high-tech company; the African-American female doctor and her husband, who teaches at the college; other people at the college (there were other ethnic minorities shown, but they didn’t have much to do in the episodes that I saw). I had read about the show and was able to pick up enough while watching. This was before DVD, before streaming or downloading, so it wasn’t easy to watch missed episodes.
    Well, I thought (smugly), don’t these people have more interesting things to talk about than TV drama? And why do they discus it in such detail and from within the milieu? I talk about TV shows and movies, but as a writer, interested in story. I don’t natter about how Daryl treated Betty at the company picnic, or the ordeal that Malone was having with his landlord that might cause him to move his toy store to a new location. The woman was surprised to hear about