When Megan and Dan and I were having drinks at the 21 Club - or "21" as I call it - I wanted to jot down one of Megan's heartbreaking anecdotes about the troubled life of Frances Farmer, but I had lost my pen earlier in the day. Just as Megan was going to loan me a pen, the waiter silently swooped out of nowhere, pen at the ready! A "21 Club" pen. Later, as our party was thinking about leaving, the waiter told me to keep the pen. A gracious and unnecessary gesture! A thoughtful remembrance! The pen that I had lost earlier that day was the pen I once told you about that had an owl by Alexander Wilson on it. I belittled the pen at the time, and mocked myself for having so many things with owls on them. But you know what? It was a really nice pen. High quality! I have to say my feelings of loss were soothed by the kind waiter at the 21 Club - or "21" as I call it. AND the mother of my friend Pen - no relation to the writing utensil - gave me a beautiful fountain pen on the same trip. So I came home much richer in pens than when I left. BUT HERE IS THE BIG MYSTERY YOU HAVE BEEN DYING TO HEAR ABOUT. On my PREVIOUS visit to New York City I ALSO LOST A FINE PEN. I don't think I mentioned it at the time. That one was silver and had a certain heft. Two visits to New York City, two lost pens... and not just any pens. Two of the nicest pens I have ever carried around. Don't worry, I'll never take the pen that Pen's mom gave me out of the house. It's way too nice. It's by far the nicest pen I've ever had, the kind of pen with which you should only write deeply personal letters by a roaring fire, and we don't have a fireplace. But then you should throw those letters into the fire, that's how nice this pen is. HERE'S THE THING! I fly all over the place, constantly jotting this and that, AND YET I HAVE NEVER LOST A PEN EXCEPT IN NEW YORK CITY. New York City: the city that swallows pens. Well, the Peabody Awards ceremony was in New York City one week ago today, so I guess I better milk it with this final picture of me holding a Peabody Award in New York City one week ago today. There must be a statute of limitations, even for a shameless glory hog such as myself. I didn't carry a pen that night because I was afraid that the ink might leak all over my new pants. TRUE STORY.
Sunday, June 07, 2015
The Astonishing Tale of the Lost Pens
When Megan and Dan and I were having drinks at the 21 Club - or "21" as I call it - I wanted to jot down one of Megan's heartbreaking anecdotes about the troubled life of Frances Farmer, but I had lost my pen earlier in the day. Just as Megan was going to loan me a pen, the waiter silently swooped out of nowhere, pen at the ready! A "21 Club" pen. Later, as our party was thinking about leaving, the waiter told me to keep the pen. A gracious and unnecessary gesture! A thoughtful remembrance! The pen that I had lost earlier that day was the pen I once told you about that had an owl by Alexander Wilson on it. I belittled the pen at the time, and mocked myself for having so many things with owls on them. But you know what? It was a really nice pen. High quality! I have to say my feelings of loss were soothed by the kind waiter at the 21 Club - or "21" as I call it. AND the mother of my friend Pen - no relation to the writing utensil - gave me a beautiful fountain pen on the same trip. So I came home much richer in pens than when I left. BUT HERE IS THE BIG MYSTERY YOU HAVE BEEN DYING TO HEAR ABOUT. On my PREVIOUS visit to New York City I ALSO LOST A FINE PEN. I don't think I mentioned it at the time. That one was silver and had a certain heft. Two visits to New York City, two lost pens... and not just any pens. Two of the nicest pens I have ever carried around. Don't worry, I'll never take the pen that Pen's mom gave me out of the house. It's way too nice. It's by far the nicest pen I've ever had, the kind of pen with which you should only write deeply personal letters by a roaring fire, and we don't have a fireplace. But then you should throw those letters into the fire, that's how nice this pen is. HERE'S THE THING! I fly all over the place, constantly jotting this and that, AND YET I HAVE NEVER LOST A PEN EXCEPT IN NEW YORK CITY. New York City: the city that swallows pens. Well, the Peabody Awards ceremony was in New York City one week ago today, so I guess I better milk it with this final picture of me holding a Peabody Award in New York City one week ago today. There must be a statute of limitations, even for a shameless glory hog such as myself. I didn't carry a pen that night because I was afraid that the ink might leak all over my new pants. TRUE STORY.
