Thinking of Richard Pulley. The Peace Corps Alumn, the Navy Vet, the only man I have ever heard of except for Rosy Grier who did incredible needlepoint.
Not to mention the man who introduced me to mystery novels.
And how he came down the street to my Montrose apartment & told me it was time to come the party.
On more than one occasion.
How he cut his wife Marguerite & I off the margaritas at The Spanish Village, always with the excuse – “I can handle either one of you alone but the two of you together. . .”
Marguerite . . .who found my first inner city apartment. With her friend John Chambless, who took us out in his little MGB to Spanish Village..
Marguerite & Richard, Rice grads. Richard in Geology. Marguerite with a PHD in Philosophy. Richard working as a geologist. Marguerite as an accountant.
Adopting me & introducing me to an amazing group of people.
Richard went into the Peace Corps during Vietnam. He found water. He hung out with some Jesuit priests. Richard had some interesting adventures. It is not my place to tell those stories.
But I do remember my “last” birthday party – my 29th – when Richard & Marguerite took me to the zoo & then to a picnic along Buffalo Bayou.
Complete with linens & Waterford & chocolate covered fruit & little slivers of white bread & beluga caviar Richard had purchased at the Russian Embassy in Afghanistan. And champagne.
I don’t remember what possessed us to look at my driver’s license but it turned out to be my 28th, not my 29th birthday. Richard & Maggie took the sacrifice of the beluga in stride.
I miss them.
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