March 18, 2009
Post #2484 – 20090318
I haven’t the slightest reason to believe someone as important as Daniel Manus Pinkwater will respond to this e-mail, but, being a retired old geezer, I have nothing better to do. The last time I tried to make nice was about 15 years ago. My letter was returned with the usual corrections by DP hisself. I gave the letter to Coleen Sally, a revered ex-instructor of Children’s Literature at University of New Orleans (since passed away). For some unknown reason, Ms. Salley worshiped DP and was most impressed to find that I had once been a neighbor of said P. I suspect that DP and his lovely wife, Jill, are still hiding out, like Bonny and Clyde, in the woods somewhere.
I know who Donald Waits is. It was in his company that I once attended a meeting of the Sons of the Desert, I think in Hempstead, NY. The event was held in a neighborhood saloon, and the members of the ""tent"" all wore white shirts buttoned to the cuff, the obligatory fezzes, and talked like Archie Bunker. Big schooners of beer were served, and a couple of Laurel and Hardy films were shown. I don't remember what Waits's impressions were, but I thought it was a singular evening of culture.