the james healy story

There was a film years ago with a great advertisement for it.
The advertisement ran:
"This is not the Marilyn Monroe story.
Not even the way she told it.
This is the way it was."
I found the ad compelling, poetic and somehow beautiful although I never bothered with the actual film.
I loved that ad.
A few days ago I attended a community event.
While moving like a ghost through the crowd, I happened to overhear (listen in on) Farmer Jones who was chatting to a very pretty woman.
The girl was saying: "Where's James Healy? Is he here? I used to read him every week in the newspaper. Is he writing still?"
Farmer Jones replied: "James gave up journalism to look after some family members. Then they died and times had changed. He was a bit older. The newspaper industry was contracting. Titles were shutting down, going bankrupt, reducing staff. James was older now too. He never managed to get back into the newspaper business."
Fascinating.
Aside from the implication that people I look after keep dying, bold readers, I could quibble with one or two items there.
Ah yes.
This isn't the James Healy story.
Not even the way he told it.
This is the version Farmer Jones made up.