if you're easily amused or in need of entertainment, read other stories shared in comments. one of my favorites is the following on page 4:
OK … I could tell you one about me and Art Linkletter when I was on his show … you know, the kind you never never forget. But let me go for another … for one of my many secrets is that I am absolutely addicted to tennis — always was, always will be. Quite a long time ago, Australian Ken Rosewall was the biggest name in tennis, bringing home trophy after trophy and still mentioned now with awe.
One day a call came in — I practically can state the time down to the hour. It was a friend, pretty famous in his own right, saying that Ken Rosewall was flying in from Australia to stay with him in Palm Springs. While I was still recovering from hearing this, he then stated that "Ken", knowing I loved tennis, invited me to come out to play tennis with him during his stay. Shaking, I said there was no way that the #1 player in the world would play with the #1 novice of all time. No way … period. But I was begged, cajoled, promised dinners with Rosewall by my friend. You can imagine the lines: like ‘Ken would really like to meet me’ (like "Ken" would give a hoot!!) But this dream man was there, and racket in hand, I booked a flight, got to LA airport and - you guessed it — chickened out big time. I lied. I told the biggest whooper of my life, in fact. Rosewall would have fallen on the court laughing the first time I served. You know it, I knew it. I told my lie and flew back home.
NOW for the best part: A few days later, two packages arrived from Palm Springs - return address: Ken Rosewall. One was an 8x10 photo of Rosewall in his tennis sweater holding a very large sign that said: WHERE’S JOAN?????? and attached was a small real tennis racket.
The other package held — Rosewall’s tennis racket~~~~~ telling us all that dreams can come true.
And so — prominently displayed on my fridge door is the photo of Ken, obviously missing me badly to take his disappointment that far. And with it, attached with magnets is THE tennis racket. If Rosewall is reading this, I still adore the man. (And if Joni Evans would ever let us show photographic proof that this really happened, you too could revel with me!! Do you know what heaven is like? This is my kind of heaven!!)