I loved your stories of the old times - br the endless journeys of the band bus, br Judy with her black-eyed girl, br the first action at each hotel br the drawer taken from the chest, br you laid in it; the band singer filling in br between the famous stars; knowing br the bridges between the famous verses br which singers seem to love so much br as if they're nearer private lives br of songwriters who have lives; br the visits to Stan Laurel, modest, br bright-eyed, pining for his Oliver.. br the glittering night-time life br of wartime, almost-still-1930s br of the Hollywood refugees; br told by the not-quite-famous who br performed in front of the famous; br the time when thanks to you br I spoke to Gloria Swanson on the phone.. br I hear the footsteps of the high-heeled life; br I smell the perfumes now no longer made. br br I thank you for all these and more. br And if some of them br were not quite true, br then thank you for the care br with which you told them; br br true dreams - dreamed truth.