Well, young lady...

I could do what I used to be famous for and tell you a tale. But the truth of the matter is I never thought to ask.

And now they’re all dead, so there’s no way I could find out for you. My cousin Peggy (who, frankly, I was madly in love with, and would have married, myself, if I could have gotten away with it) died of a brain tumor about 20 years ago; her husband passed only five years ago. Chris Dickey died just last Summer.


One can imagine, I suppose, them talking about New York in the Sixties, as Chris and Peggy were about the same age and Chris had spent some time there. And Paris in the Seventies and Eighties, as well as the dancing scene in and around the Latin Quarter during that time. That’s what Peggy was involved with and Chris, being a novelist as well as a journalist, would have been interested. Peggy wasn’t a vegetarian (curse her) so it probably would have been the more or less typical bread and ham or bread and veal with a salad at the end. That’s what they do, you know, they have salad for dessert. And always lots of fresh butter. The French love their fresh butter.

And don’t forget the wine. White for the ham. Rose for the veal.

Apperitif at the end. unles you want coffee. Or both.

Possessor of Paul Newman eyes. Author of many things straightforward and strange. Some of them appear here. “Women zai shuo ba” as the Mandarin say. Born 2016.

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