“If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?”

— Stephen Levine

Hello. Hello? Who? Lennie? Oh my God … Lennie Edelstein, for God’s sake.

It’s been a million years. What a surprise — where are you? Of course you are, where else would you be? How the hell are you? You sound great. How did you find me? My daughter Jill? How did that happen? Of course, I know she’s an agent. She’s my daughter and my agent.

So you were looking for an agent? At your age? What happened to what’s his name, Ed Sontini, with the checkered sport coat and cigar? He did? From what? Oh, that’s tough. 98? He had a good run.

I’m swell. Well, I’m not really retired, just retired from all of that. I write more, I write a weekly humor column and film review. What do you mean, “Where do I see them?” We have two movie theaters five minutes away, we’re not in the woods, you know. Yes, there are lots of trees, but …

Because it’s Kay’s hometown — seemed easy that way. What do I wear? Clothes, regular clothes. No, we don’t wear Eskimo clothes. Oh yeah, I still have a few linen jackets for summer. I’ve still got a collection of silk pocket hankies, I’d never give them up.

No, Lennie, nobody thinks I’m gay. Of course we have gay people, what’s the matter with you? You saw us on what? Yeah, we’re on the news, one big snowstorm after another, it’s Maine. Lennie, stop it. They’re not Eskimos. There aren’t any Eskimos in Maine. Those are regular parkas. They’re my neighbors. Trapping beavers? You’re so funny. Hat shacks? No, Lennie, nobody lives in those; they’re are for ice fishing …You cut a hole and you fish. I know, I don’t get it either. Wolves? Lennie, where are you gettin’ this stuff? Well, stop watching that crap. That’s Canada, way up Canada.

Of course there are Jews here, where do you think Maine is, the rain forest? Of course I have Jewish friends, not crazy Jews like you. Delis? Not really, not like Nate and Al’s. It doesn’t matter, I can’t eat corned beef and sauerkraut anymore.

Stop with the questions, what’s life like in Hollywood for you now? You’re doing extra work? Oh, they call them background players now. I’m sorry. So how much does a “background player” get these days? You can live on that? Jeeez, Lennie, you had a couple of series, you were a featured player.

Don’t you get your Screen Actor’s Guild pension? Sure I do, that’s what I live on. Small newspapers don’t pay a lot of money. That’s not of your business. She told you? My big mouthed daughter told you what I make? No, I don’t need a loan. Kay still teaches. Sure, she’s younger than us, you know.

How much do I pay the what? Pool cleaner? Lennie, I don’t have a pool, nobody here has a pool. People swim in lakes or the ocean. No, Lennie, no sharks in Maine. So what kind of background acting you getting these days? That’s wonderful. You got five days on “Grey’s Anatomy?” A hospital show, Mazel tov. So you’re what? A surgeon? A patient? What disease you got? You’re dying? Why would you do that? That’s bad luck I think, Lennie, if I were there I would not do that.

No. I might play a guy who comes in for a check up or something, but lay in the bed pretending to be dying? That’s bad luck.

Do you have any lines? No lines. I know your background, but sometimes you get a line or two. Oxygen mask? The whole show? The fluid thing with the bottle, sure. They got that thing next to your bed that tells them when you’re flat-lining? Yeah, of course, I do. I was on “Dr. Kildare,” remember? But I was a handsome young doctor, not old and dying in a bed. Remember? It wasn’t that long ago. It was with Richard Chamberlain. He’s not dead. He’s still working. You’re thinking of Vince Edwards on “Ben Casey,” he’s dead — 67 years old he died. Yeah, Robert Young, he was … Dr. Welby, I think. He’s dead, too. I was a handsome young doctor on that one too.

No, no lines, but I wasn’t background and dying in a bed.

You’re right, we’re lucky not to be dead, we outlived those bastards. That’s right. I’m wearing earmuffs and you’re wearing an oxygen mask, and we’re not dead.

What? Lennie, my prostate’s fine. What? 110 over 50.

Listen, I gotta go. I love you Lennie, let me know when you’re dying. No, on the show, I mean, I’ll watch it. Mazel tov, Lennie, call anytime.

J.P. Devine is a Waterville writer.

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