and now back to the discussion of language?

[RonButters at AOL.COM]

My life was never the same after I heard that James Dean was dead. I cried
for days, refused to eat, wore only black, and threatened to shave my head. I
taped his picture inside the front cover of a little volume of Tennyson's In
Memorium, and carried it everywhere. I said rosaries for him. I drank my
father's borbon and watered the bottle.

But I perked up when I realized that I still had Sal Mineo (for a while). And
when granny told me that she had gone the same route with Valentino.