I met Jim in Reuter Park in Lansing, Michigan, one night in 1963 ... or was it 1962? ... introduced to him by my Army buddy Richard, whom I was visiting. Anyway, he's been a long-time excellent friend. Above picture taken around 1972 at Harold Beck's apartment in Detroit. In 1988 (I think it was) Jim and Richard and Rodney and I were celebrating 25 years of friendship by having dinner at a fine Cape Cod restaurant; we'd invited Abby because we were all fond of her. I'd had one too many martinis when I looked across the room at a four-top and saw what I thought was some kind of blonde animal curled up on a plate ... perhaps one of those little Pekingese dogs. It was kind of startling ... what the hell was a dog doing sleeping on a plate in a fine restaurant? I tapped Abby's forearm. "Abby ... uh ... uh ... " I felt silly asking, but managed to point and stammer, "Uh ... uh ... what kind of animal is that?" Abby turned to look, then burst out into what is one of the world's best laughs. "That's not an animal," she said. "That's [and here she identified one of the town's Selectmen]." Said Selectperson had passed out face down in her plate, her long thick hair falling around her, her three companions going about their dining pleasure as if there was nothing unusual at their table.
Anyway, Jim, I have several thousand happy memories that involve you. Thank you for never being anything other than a good friend!
And speaking of martinis reminds me of a favored Dorothy Parker lyric which I might not get exactly right:
I love a good martini,
but two at the most ...
three I'm under the table,
four and I'm under the host.
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