It was undoubtedly true. And although we were about to launch ourselves into the most terrible lie of our lives, the reality of what we ended up doing turned out to be absolutely the right thing to do. The whole thing began on a boat, the SS United States, a luxury liner built to break transatlantic speed records and a breathtaking place to be in the early s. The President was only months dead from a shooting but the Sixties were not to be stopped. It really all started that first night in our windowless cabin, deep in the bowels of the ship.
Our respective parents had booked these accommodations for their year-old sons with no better idea than either of us of what we might encounter there. The right stuff that we needed to really know each other. In the dinginess of the cabin I could almost hear David smile when I said my father was a lawyer. David himself intended to go to law school after this American adventure. I was supposed to go to Cambridge University, my twin brother to catering school.
David said he had plenty of girlfriends. He went to grammar school, where girls also attended. Despite these differences in experience, however, by dawn we realized that, opposites or not, we were going to be fast friends, sharing a love of popular music especially.
Our first breakfast aboard, held In the vast dining hall no first-class allowed , we encountered a surprise: The Painsville girls, 20 so college students heading back to school from a trip abroad. The fascination was mutual. We joined them, David and I wearing identical gray wool sweaters and corduroy pants, the girls dressed in a blaze of colored shirts shirts and denim blue jeans. We amazed each other with our eating habits. The English way of assembling knife and at the end of a meal was quite different from the American way and the cause of merriment and a measure of obscure resentment on both sides.
Collectively they called us Brits and we called them Yanks. The years still to come would leave the Fifties in the dust. And, too, by the end of the meal David and I both had selected which of the Psainsville group would be our particular friend during the remainder of the voyage and even beyond it. This whole sea adventure came to an end, inevitably, with the approach of New York City. On a chilly March afternoon, with snow visible on the Jersey shore — American snow!
Yet thanks to Liberty, my new best mate and I were about to bring something new to America by being something we were not. Coming next: Conrad Hilton enters the picture and the boys set out to cross the country masquerading as two of the Rolling Stones.
Your email address will not be published. Feature Stories. Those were the first words I said to him. I sobbed once and a tear rolled down my left cheek. Oh, God, I missed her. No Comment Leave a reply Cancel reply Your email address will not be published.