In the wake of the swirling headlines about show biz improprieties, someone asked me recently if, when I was somewhat “big in the business”, women ever threw themselves at me.
(I just smiled, typing those words.)
My response to them was,
It was unlikely.
But then I remembered a story. Not a show biz story. But one from my long ago days at Camp Ogama.
We were on a canoe trip in Algonquin Park, camped on an island, for an overnight respite. I do not recall exactly how old we were. My best guess is we were teenagers, maybe fifteen or sixteen.
While we were setting up camp, we looked out on the lake and saw this flotilla of teenage girls, paddling in our direction. When they reached the edge of the island, without running aground, after some casual conversation, they inquired if we knew what time it was. And we told them.
The girls’ canoe trip thanked us for that information, and then paddled away.
It was not long after their departure someone astutely noted,
“They had watches.”
That’s how it happens sometimes.
You miss the telegraphing signals until after the fact.
You miss the signals entirely.