Ray Stone called me from California.
"This place is great," he said. "You should come down. I can see the fireworks from Disneyland."
Fuckin' guy.
If you don't know Ray Stone, well you are a nobody. Cause Ray Stone knows everybody. He was having dinner with Rich Little and Dick Van Dyke the other night, he said.
"What the..." was all I could say. Who has dinner with Dick Van Dyke?
Dick was regaling him with the story about the time, a few months back, when he was driving along and smelled smoke. He pulled over to text his wife for help and a swarm of do-gooders, thinking he was asleep -- or dead -- dragged him out of the car. Good thing they did, he said. A few minutes later, the car caught on fire.
Ray liked it so much, he drew a cartoon.
That was a good one, Ray said.
You might wonder if Ray is making up these stories, but he always has photographic proof.
Here he is with Dick and Rich mugging for the camera. He went on Pierre and Margaret's honeymoon cruise. Yep, I said it. Here's proof.
Ray reminds me of Danny Kaye and Bing Crosby. He started in the military, then segued into government, and in the meantime he has had side careers as an actor, a photographer, cartoonist and Ottawa radio personality.
Is there anything he can't do? Is there anybody he doesn't know?
A few years back, Ray lost his lovely wife Terry. He was sad, of course, but he didn't miss a beat. Just kept working and travelling. I believe -- and Ray you will correct me if I'm wrong -- Ray met his second wife while visiting Paul Anka in Las Vegas. He got married and moved to a nice warm spot near Anaheim, which was where he was calling me from.
"Love your blog, kid," said, Ray. Kid was always what he called me.
I have to say that at 57, it made me feel good to be called "kid" again.
Yesterday, he sent me a boatload of old snaps. Here's one with Pierre with Allan J. in a kilt!
Think I'll send them to Justin.
But wait, I'm sure Ray has already had Justin and Sophie over for dinner.
He's that kind of guy.
Fuckin' Ray Stone.
He's awesome.
"This place is great," he said. "You should come down. I can see the fireworks from Disneyland."
Fuckin' guy.
If you don't know Ray Stone, well you are a nobody. Cause Ray Stone knows everybody. He was having dinner with Rich Little and Dick Van Dyke the other night, he said.
"What the..." was all I could say. Who has dinner with Dick Van Dyke?
Dick was regaling him with the story about the time, a few months back, when he was driving along and smelled smoke. He pulled over to text his wife for help and a swarm of do-gooders, thinking he was asleep -- or dead -- dragged him out of the car. Good thing they did, he said. A few minutes later, the car caught on fire.
Ray liked it so much, he drew a cartoon.
That was a good one, Ray said.
You might wonder if Ray is making up these stories, but he always has photographic proof.
Here he is with Dick and Rich mugging for the camera. He went on Pierre and Margaret's honeymoon cruise. Yep, I said it. Here's proof.
Ray reminds me of Danny Kaye and Bing Crosby. He started in the military, then segued into government, and in the meantime he has had side careers as an actor, a photographer, cartoonist and Ottawa radio personality.
Is there anything he can't do? Is there anybody he doesn't know?
A few years back, Ray lost his lovely wife Terry. He was sad, of course, but he didn't miss a beat. Just kept working and travelling. I believe -- and Ray you will correct me if I'm wrong -- Ray met his second wife while visiting Paul Anka in Las Vegas. He got married and moved to a nice warm spot near Anaheim, which was where he was calling me from.
"Love your blog, kid," said, Ray. Kid was always what he called me.
I have to say that at 57, it made me feel good to be called "kid" again.
Yesterday, he sent me a boatload of old snaps. Here's one with Pierre with Allan J. in a kilt!
Think I'll send them to Justin.
But wait, I'm sure Ray has already had Justin and Sophie over for dinner.
He's that kind of guy.
Fuckin' Ray Stone.
He's awesome.
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