I was sitting in a laundromat in Palo Alto. The one just off University Avenue. It was 1969 and I was a student at Stanford. I’d put my dirty clothes in one of the washing machines. It took a quarter as I recall. I sat down in one of those plastic chairs that hook together and was reading some old magazine. An older lady came by and asked if I would give her four quarters for the dollar bill she had. I did.

     About then a blonde girl in a white dress came down the aisle and began removing her wet clothes from the machine next to mine. I couldn’t help but notice her legs. Very muscular, very strong looking. She put her clothes into one of the dryers and then, instead of going back to where she’d been sitting before, she came over and sat next to me. She was also a Stanford student. She was nice and friendly and we talked until her clothes were dry. She got her clothes together and was ready to leave. We said something like…”Nice talking to you. Good luck in everything.” And then she left. She walked out and got into her car (an old red Renault) and drove away. But after a few minutes, she came back. She walked into the laundromat directly up to me.

"Would you like to come to my house for dinner tonight?" she asked.

Not wanting to hurt her feelings, I accepted.

     That’s how it started. A three year relationship. Her name was Sharon and she won three gold medals and a silver in the 1964 Tokyo Olympics. Swimming. She was a terrific girl. Smart and funny. It was a great while it lasted.