Walter Thompson

January 1, 1997

Post #638 – 19970101

You probably don’t remember me, and that’s fine. I’m sure you meet a lot of people, many of whom you’d rather forget. I met you several years ago in Huntington, NY, shortly before you moved to that farm upstate. You were at Helena Pittman’s place (I lost touch with her years ago), sitting on a tree stump, smoking a pipe and waxing poetic about something or other.

Anyway, I hope things are going well with you. If you’d like to know a little more about me, of if you care to read something I wrote, check out my home page at

Daniel replies:

Matter of fact, I do remember you, Walter. Helena Pittman made a big deal that you were an enthusiastic reader of mine, and it would be so great if you could meet me, and it would be the greatest thing that ever happened to you, and I had to come to this gathering so it could take place. She led me out in the back yard, and had me sit on that tree stump, so your father could escort you up to me, and you and I could have this moment--it was a little like being taken to see Santa. Only what happened was, you and I exchanged a few words, I could see by your changing expression that you were realizing I was just another boring adult, and I said something like, ""It always happens like this kid. No good author can live up to his work.""

And you said, ""So, you wouldn't mind if I went and played with my friend now?""

""Not at all,"" I told you. ""I'll talk to your father. Just be sure to tell Helena that meeting me was the greatest event in your life.""

So your father and I chatted until enough time had gone by that we could go into the house and get something to eat without arousing Helena's suspicions. Nice guy, your dad.