Hello my angels,
I am enmeshed in things bookish. But, our beloved Lanier (SCENTS MEMORY | There is nothing like the smell of a man.) pointed out a treasure of a weblog and an enchanting tale…
A Cary Grant Story
This story was told by Ann Walker, the mother of a dear friend of ours named Alyson Daniels, whom we are fortunate to live near to in the country. This retelling is a tribute to Ann, a wonderful and dear lady, and a person I became fond of in the too-short time that I was privileged to know her before she died, almost a decade ago.
Ann Walker was one of the most attractive women I have known. Although in her early seventies when I met her, she still had a marvelous, gamine figure, with legs for days, and an innate sense of classic American style, updated for contemporary life. She had a terrific sense of humor and was quite amusing, and her throaty laugh–which she did frequently–was infectious. And she was a bit kooky, which only added to her charm. Ann’s combination of looks, style, and humor meant that she had no shortage of admirers, myself among them. She was, in short, a true American babe.