The following is a piece I sent to Nancy’s sister. We’ve shared laughs over the years about those we’ve known who simply always take themselves way too seriously … like this gal here. Camille. We’re at Runaway Hill on Harbor Island. Having dinner at the Landings. A restaurant here owned by a loan shark. Why? So expensive you need a loan from him to pay for dinner. Nancy and I were laughing so hard during dinner our waitress had to come over to see if we were alright. Why? All we could think about was … you Kirkley. If only you could be here to meet … Camille.

Camille is from, well … Boca Grande, St Louis and … ? Camille couldn’t quite remember where her other homes were. Kirkley, brace yourself. This is Camille? “Merion Cricket” – SQUARED!

Married three times to older men … all died. Surmise being married to her? Thought they’d be better on the “other side of the grass.” Big bucks! “Peter? (her “cigar store Indian” companion) … where are my other two homes.” Ohhh, Peter. You hooked a real beauty. Three husbands gone? Pete? You better get a food taster. Looking at me like I was Mr. Potato Head, Camille uttered, “And where are you from? And your name is?” Told her my name was Osama Ben Laden. She didn’t hear a syllable. “Atlanta?” … “Ohh, Atlanta. Yes. I’ve heard Atlanta is very nice.” Her nose moving northward as she sized me up. “But, Camille (I couldn’t resist), I grew up in Philadelphia ON THE MAIN LINE.” Ohhhhh the Main Line! How lovely.” That got her. Camille breathlessly leaned forward. “You must know …” She rattled off a few names I’d never heard of. But I replied breathlessly, “Oh, Camille, yes I’ve played bridge with… —-. Love —-‘s beautiful home.” All BS.

Camille was sooo impressed. “So glad to meet you. And what was your name again?” Hmm, sweet. Only the third time I’d told her. Camille and her hubby Peter had tried to get into Dunmore. The Ritz of HI. Runaway is the Marriott. Camille pouted, “But it was full.” “Ohhh” I said. “Disappointed you had to go from Coke to Crown Cola?” Camille with a soft chuckle, “Oh, now that’s funny. What was your name again?” Then she offered, “We’re so nervous about the weather. Hope we are able to fly out tomorrow.” … “Camille. What airline are you flying out on?” She was dying to have me ask. “Oh no, on our own.” Private plane of course. Ride with all those “deplorables?!” Not Camille.

Watched the Final Four with her and a small group here on Monday night. “Don’t you just love those young boys running around in those short shorts?” Hmm, Camille. Not getting enough “nooky” from Pete the “Indian?” … “I was so hoping Duke would be in the championship. We have so many friends who have graduated and have children at Duke.” Then this. The lynchpin. Looking over at me. “And where did you go to school, Sam?” “Trinity” Camille looked puzzled. “Trinity? I thought that was a women’s college in DC.” Now I was getting a little pissed. During halftime Camille leaned over to a gal next to her. “Did you know Hoda and Jenna are going to host the third hour on the Today Show?” Followed by “This might not be of interest to you … but you know (here goes) we are great friends of the Bush’s.” Camille noticed I was turning green. Feigning concern, “Are you Ok, Sam?” Guess her calling me Sam was better than Osama.

I could go on. But I won’t. Finally, back to dinner. Camille caught my eye as she and her “Indian” moved toward their table on the porch. She swooned over, “Oh, (no name) how are you?” … We’re just lovely, Camille. “I love your blouse. ($1,000 from somewhere) “Oh just something I threw on. Have a nice meeal”

Nancy and I were in tears! “Bob” Nancy eked out hardly able to speak, “You absolutely have to write Kirk about Camille!” So Kirk? Here it is. This was Camille. A total classic. Merion squared. Hoped you got a chuckle out of all this too.

With love,

Bob