I cut out a picture of Jean Stafford even though I only knew her vaguely. What I really mean is I recognized her name. In the picture she is wearing a light jacket with aviator lapels and a dark blouse.
Her hair is pulled back and strands are escaping on both sides. She is looking to the right of the photographer and towards the sky or ceiling. She is not smiling. She seems to be suppressing a thought. Her lips are pursed. She seems certain. She seems hurt. The photo must be years and years old.
When you look up “Jean” here are the people you find first:
Jean Claude van Damme
Jean Harlow
Jean Stapleton
Not Jean Stafford.
I understand that Jean Stafford wrote very well. I do not think she is still alive.
I don’t think this is what Jean Stafford looked like.
I fold the photograph and put it in my wallet. I will never have to explain this to anyone.
This is a Jean Stafford story I like to say. But I can’t truthfully say that it is.
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