In 1991, the 3rd of July
was a Wednesday and I was merely a visitor here in Vermont, soaking up the Cuervo and Rolling Rocks in the downstairs bar at The Valley House.
I’ve told & retold the story of meeting My Beloved Sandra so many times now that the event itself has taken on mythic proportions and Sandra, hearing me tell it and retell it, swears that my version is, indeed, mostly myth.
But the truth is this: I recall (and accurately so) every minute detail of that entire evening and that particular event, and she does not.
So neener, neener, neener Dr Stanley. When I’m telling the story, it would be best to just sit there and smile your beautiful smile, nod your beautiful head, and avoid rolling those beautiful brown eyes.