The New York skyline in November of 1981.
RATED: "Four-minute read"
An EXCERPT:
After she left, he turned to me.
“You should call me Tom,” he said. “It’s my given name, you know. Friends call me Tom.”
I had heard him addressed as Tennessee, Tenn, and Tom, and seen no pattern as to who called him what or why. I was glad that was settled—all week I had avoided addressing him by name.
Over dinner, we discussed the plan for arrival: where we would meet the driver, and the business obligations of the next day. Afterward, I sipped Courvoisier, watching as we crept past luminescent colonies far below, and then soon stood up and stepped carefully past Tennessee, heading to the forward lavatory.
Passengers stopped me.
“That’s Tennessee Williams, isn’t it?”
“Excuse me, is that Tennessee Williams?”
Of course, I knew that Tennessee was a public figure, but I had only known him in Key West—in his modest home and as just another islander. I was entering a different world now -- a world where he would have a certain stature and be recognized for it. New York would never be the same.
* * *
>>> ADDITIONAL FREE READING: My Memoir, CONSUMING BROKEN GLASS/WALKING ON GLASS: A MEMOIR OF THE LATER DAYS OF TENNESSEE WILLIAMS can be read here:
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Image by Mark Beard. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_Beard_(artist)
READ THE BOOK!!!: http://laterdaysoftennesseewilliams.blogspot.mx/
>>> And DON'T MISS yet ANOTHER freeing offering from me:
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