Dear Mr. Letterman
May 20, 2015
You probably do not remember me, but there isn’t a day that passes by that I, or my family, do not think about you. To help refresh your memory, I’m the little chubby girl who took on the role as the George Foreman grill for your halloween special circa 2003. That day, you learned that I really enjoy meat, and that I inherited my dad, Mike McIntee’s monstrosity of a head.
I grew up in the 12th floor of Ed Sullivan Theatre: where Mr. McIntee worked relentlessly- so much so that he even opted to return to work the very next day after my sister and I were born. I found endless adventure and opportunity in your building of narrow hallways, gritty city views, and printer rooms, where I would load up on popcorn bags and sharpie markers. The “Oh my God, that’s so awesome” ‘s from those who discovered my dad’s profession still fill me with an overwhelming sense of pride.
Mike, as you may know, is rather somber and private. He rarely expresses his emotions or feelings, unless provoked by my mom. Needless to say, the impact that you have had on him is too profound for him to even construct into words and sentences. Writing for you and your staff has allowed him to escape the unforunate mundanity that almost everyone experiences while working a 9-5 job. You fostered his passion and courage to share his creative talents on and off the screen. He’ll never admit it, but being part of the Late Show was a one-in-a-million gift to him- a gift that will be treasured and honored for the rest of his life.
So, thank you, Mr. Letterman: for never making my father “work” a day.
Your presence will be missed.
P.S.: In regards to the NBC fiasco/battle, at least you don’t resemble the Crimson chin