I was saying “Happy Anniversary” to my brother yesterday, and I remembered a happy little experience from his wedding.
I danced with a man I did not know. But not just any man. A big tough-looking biker type – (although he could have been an actuary for all I know) – who wore a leather vest over his great bare chest. And not just any dance. With this rather scary looking thug (although he could have been a flight attendant for all I know) – I danced the chicken dance.
How many people can say that? How many people are allowed a memory like that?
I am very lucky indeed.
Last week I met a talented famous woman who charmed the hat right off of me. And I am allowed to keep that memory too.
I have had a few “important” experiences: I flew on the Concorde, which no one…
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