Dana worked with me way back in 1979-80 at a club called Tuesday's, the bar mentioned in the Funny Story.

She was a waitress, and I was a bartender at the time. She was tall, square-shouldered, strong, voluptuous, and lovely, about my height, (5'9") and I'd guess about 160, maybe a bit more. Think of an olive-skinned, tanned, Mae West with long golden-brown hair, blue eyes, and a dazzling wide white smile. She was part American Indian, (Cherokee?) and had the tell-tale high cheekbones of her people. Toss in some Irish, and Italian, and there you have her, one of those uniquely beautiful girls you find only in America.

We were drawn to each other for months, but never pursued it, as we worked together. One night, for reasons that over the years have escaped me, it turned out that we were both off work, (not normally the case) and were up at the bar to have a drink. We danced together for the first time, and drank more than we should have, all the while simmering for each other.

The night ended up at her place, and leaving aside the details for another day, it was one of the most memorable nights of my life. It's safe to say that I will never forget her.

Shortly afterward, within weeks, I moved to Florida. We exchanged letters a few times, (I still have them, and plan to scan them and put them up here someday) and then, nothing. I heard years later that she started dating someone else, and got engaged. I don't know whether she ever married the guy in question, or not.

She was from Pittsburg, PA.

What else do I know about her? Her parents were divorced, and she used to live in an apartment on the street Gray Falls here in Houston.

That, and that I know I'd truly love to know how the course of her life has been since I knew her. I hope that she has been as happy as our mortal existence allows.

So, Dana, if you stumble upon this, give me a shout.

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You may have to be from the South to enjoy both the humor AND the truth of these. I got these via the DaveWorld mailing list, courtesy of ScottR. Props.

But there is a twist - there's one I wrote in there - it should be easy to guess which one.

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My first few weeks of my first year working the faire, I just had a simple feather in my cap, and despite my best creative efforts to the contrary, a fairly forgettable persona, as evidenced by my current inability to even remember the name I had chosen.

Then, one day, while walking through the produce section of the local grocery store, I saw a bundle of leeks, and a little bulb went off in my head, something about Shakespeare and wearing a leek on your hat. I bought a bunch, having a hunch.

When I got home, I fired up the dialup, and as google was just a gleam in the founder's eyes, if that, in those days, I went over to the Gutenberg site, and did a word search for the word leek in the Compleat Works, and started rummaging around in the hits. It didn't take long.

Henry V, Act IV, Scene VII:

Fluellen, speaking to the King of the battle of Poitiers, won by Henry's ancestor, Edward, the Black Prince of Wales:

“If your majesties is remembered of it, the Welshmen did good service in a garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps, which, your majesty know, to this hour is an honourable badge of the service, and I do believe your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon St. Tavy's Day”

Fluellen is a captain, one of Henry's right hand men, a proud, martial, but somewhat rustic Welshman. (To this day, the Welsh are considered to be more hillbillyish than the rest of England) Shakespeare emphasizes this by writing Fluellen's lines in an accented manner different from all the rest of the characters, most notably, by his continued substitution of the letter "p" for "b," and "t" for "d." (Hence "St. Tavy's")

King Henry replies: "I wear it for a memorable honour; For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman."

So, by the evidence, even the King of England wore a leek in his hat at least one day a year.

Then later on in the play, Act V, Scene I, there is a comedic interlude after the battle of Agincourt. I'll not quote the entire scene, but you can read it here if you like. Fluellen is mocked by Pistol, one of Falstaff's cronies, for wearing a leek in his hat. Fluellen proceeds to roundly thrash Pistol, and forces him to eat the leek he wore on his cap.

Then Gower, another captain, admonishes Pistol: "Will you mock at an ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour?"

This statement led to to start digging around for the roots of this "ancient tradition." As it turns out, while several variations exist, the wearing of the leek on the cap dates to the 5th century, and is attributed to St. David, the patron saint of Wales.

As the story goes, the Welsh were about to fight a battle with the Saxons. It was difficult to tell friend from foe. As they happened to be fighting in a field where leeks were growing, St. David had the Welshmen, fighting under King Cadwallader distinguish themselves by wearing a leek in their caps. They conquered the Saxons, and took to wearing a leek on their cap each St David's Day, (March 1st)in memory of this victory, and the leek became a symbol of Welsh pride and nationalism.

This custom, by the way, is followed to this very day in Wales. I've had Welshmen tell me that if you were to watch their rugby teams play on TV, you would see leeks permanently affixed to the top of the home field goal posts, and fans waving gigantic artificial leeks in the stands the way American football fans wear their cheeseheads and wave huge foam "We're #1!" fingers.

This was a bit I could build a character on. Thus was born Hawke Leekeman.

Hawke is a farmer, that most of the year works a sort of a low-level foreman on one of the estates owned by the king. He inherited this job from his father, who had it from his, and so on for generations back. His family was awarded this rather cushy job when that remote ancestor fought with Edward III at Crecy, as one of the poor blokes standing in the ranks of poorly armed and equipped peasant levies. He was fortunate enough to survive, and Edward awarded him this sinecure to replace the former holder of the job, who wasn't.

So, for generations, the Leekemans have been farmers in peace, and peasant militia in the wars, serving after Crecy, at Poitiers under The Black Prince, at Agincourt with Henry V, and so on, until the line reaches Hawke, a loyal Welsh subject of Henry V.

Hawke supplements his income by working at the faire every year. He also enjoys the chance to go into the village, after the boredom and drudgery of the agricultural estate. His wife died years ago, so he also looks forward to the chance to meet the women that flock from all around the countryside to the New Market Village fair. It's lonely out there on the farm.

As a fiercely patriotic Welshmen, he wears the leek on his cap every day at faire, even though St. David's Day is long past, as it gives him the chance to regale all the folks who wonder at it with the tale of St. David and King Cadwallader against the Saxons.

Hawke's primary traits as a character at faire are friendliness and being helpful, followed closely by being funny, in a slightly ribald way. He enjoys offering the patrons at faire information, both about the products he hawks, as well as other attractions at the faire. He's a walking information booth - pointing out the most entertaining shows, the best place to catch the parade, and the all-important directions to the next privy.

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