AT FIRST GLANCE

 Back in my past I had dreams of becoming a writer.

Not a journalist, which is what I spent my working life doing, but a real writer.

As I look back into the mists of time, I imagine I would someday be up there in the pantheon with Hemingway, Vonnegut, Kerouac, Tom Robbins, maybe.

What energy I put into these visions, however, I didn't seem to have a vision of what I would write about.

And I seemed to lack that other necessity - fortitude.

I dreamed of success without effort.

Then one day I saw an ad in a magazine for the Famous Writers School.

It seemed to promise to uncover my latent talent and lead me to the door to fame and riches.

So I wrote to them.

And forgot about it.

Until one day I answered my telephone and discovered a friendly feminine voice saying she represented the school and wanted to meet me and discuss my plans.

Wow!

My dreams were coming true after all.

Assuming that she had traveled to Indiana, where I lived, from Connecticut, where the school was based, I inquired where she was calling from.

She named a fairly close hotel and I said that I was going to be at that very same hotel that evening because a friend of mine who was a jazz drummer had a combo that was playing there that night.

We arranged a meeting in the hotel lobby.

Then I lay down for a nap and managed to over-sleep.

But I jumped in my car and hurried to the location.

Upon entering the lobby I encountered a beautiful woman wearing a black turtleneck sweater and a topcoat.

I was wearing a black turtleneck sweater and a topcoat!

We adjourned to a meeting room where I got the pitch to sign up for a correspondence course from the school.

I asked if the lady would like a martini but she declined, saying she could not partake while she worked.

After hearing the details I woefully told the representative that while I would like to enroll and take the course, I simply could not afford the fees.

Our meeting over, I said I was going into the lounge where my friend was playing and invited the gorgeous lady to join me if she was through working.

Let me now bring an end to this too-lengthy tale and tell you that many martinis later I learned that the lady was NOT from Connecticut, that she lived in the area and was an employee of the company representing Central Indiana.

I also had stunned her with my talent by writing poems on bar napkins.

Not to mention my black turtleneck sweater matching hers.

To say the least, I was smitten.

And, 89 days later, we were married.

Our first meeting was exactly 51 years ago today.

But when I'm asked how we met I still say "I picked her up in a hotel lobby!"