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A word from Alretha

A.K.A. Tony Soprano

A.K.A. Tony Soprano
When the clock struck five today, I logged off of my computer with a Kool-Aid smile on my face. It was time to close shop and I was thrilled. I love my job, but I equally enjoy spending time at home with my hubby. I bid my coworkers good night while I made my way to the lobby all perky and upbeat. When I turned to say goodnight to the receptionist, I noticed the face of a familiar actor plastered on the wide screen TV that hangs on the lobby wall. It was James Gandolfini. I wondered for a moment what he had done to make the news. My gaze shifted to the caption—James Gandolfini, dead at 51. A wave of sadness washed over me, and I was no longer a happy nine-to-fiver/writer on her way home. I became a dismayed fan and my mood quickly shifted from bubbly to blue. “Wow! Tony Soprano died of a heart attack,” I blurted out to anyone who was within earshot. A couple of assistants, also on their way home, expressed their shock and sadness while we rode the elevator down to the parking garage. Nearing my car, I continued to try to wrap my head around the news that Tony...
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