New shoes trip me up.

 

I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced the same thing, but almost every time I buy a new pair of shoes, I spend the first week or so stumbling and tripping in them until the front of the soles wear down enough to adapt to my footfalls.

 

Nancy Graf never ceases to remind me that two of her most vivid memories of me are moments of — shall we say — potential humiliation. She LOVES the chapter in my book of humor (Floating Around Hollywood) called “THEY CALL ME WALRUS WOMAN” when I made an ass of myself  in front of a producer in Hollywood (under the direction of his assistants, I must add). Or the time my African serval quite unexpectedly joined her in the kitchen while she was cooking hamburger. (“I’ll take some of that, thank you very much!”)

 

But the one that tickles her the most (and me, too) happened during the time we both worked at the Animal Protection Institute in the early 1980’s (rebranded as Born Free USA years later).

 

Nancy worked in a small office adjacent to Creative Services Director Ted Crail’s office, which was accessible only through hers, so I frequently traveled through on my many trips to see him. He was (more or less) my go-to supervisor and advisor because I was a staff writer there in addition to being a representative of the organization whenever I was out and about in any capacity for them (speaker, investigator, interviewer, feature writer, etc.)

 

Newly Shod

 

Well!  Newly shod one day in a pair of professional-looking sandals, I entered Nancy’s office, looked to my left to bid her a good morning with a cheery smile and wave, but halfway through the greeting I stumbled and nearly fell down.  Undaunted and quite unsurprised, I finished my greeting and continued in the direction of  Ted’s office until I heard and then saw Nancy convulsing with laughter.

 

I stopped and looked at her, perplexed.  She explained, “That was the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life with my own eyes!”

 

I asked, “What was?”

 

She continued to laugh.”It was just like out of a Jerry Lewis movie.  You walk in, say hi and smile, and you trip, and then you just keep walking, as if to say, ‘You imagined that!’  Oh, no, I didn’t!!!”

 

Although I hadn’t seen it from her angle,  I finally understood what was so damned funny and I guffawed, too, because Nancy described it so well. That’s what set me off.

 

Pretty soon we heard Ted Crail in his office. “My, my, we’re certainly having a good time today, aren’t we, ladies?”

 

Which made us roar even harder.  Of course, I explained to him what had just gone on.

 

He said, “I’m sorry I missed it.”

 

I said, “I’M not!”   And Nancy (in her office) and I (in his) laughed again.

 

Ted couldn’t  help but grin as two crazy ladies yukked it up.

 

I miss them both terribly.  Nancy is still among the living, but Ted has passed. He wrote me one of  the best letters of recommendation I’ve ever received (and as you can see on my testimonials page, I’ve received a bunch, but none as thorough as Ted’s in detailing what I bring to the table as a writer/influencer).

 

I will attach a copy of it here, plus the copy (without the accompanying image of an anemic veal calf in his crate) of an ad I did which Ted proclaimed a masterpiece.  From this distance away (in decades), I agree.

 

 

 

Warning: You may want to skip the below ad I wrote if written depictions of animal cruelty spoil your day.

 

Ted Crail as Nancy and I remember him …

Author of (Pultizer-Prize nominated) Apetalk and Whalespeak

Nancy Graf about 1996 (11 or 12 years after we worked together at API)

 

“Those were the days, my friend

We thought they’d never end…”

…and they never have, because they reside — safe and secured — in our fondest memories

and now — in this blog post!!!

*sigh*