Helen Hughes
Harold was a bright and witty man -- not easy for me to know, however. Growing up in small town New England, as the youngest in a large family, I learned to follow two or three conversations at once around the dinner table, and how to yell to get my word in.
But bantering repartee -- how to handle and toss back jesting put-downs -- was not part of it. Therefore, Harold's wisecracks left me silent.
I only learned of his tender, soft side at my mother's memorial service; we were seated side by side and I noticed, amazed, tears on his cheeks.
"Ah!" said I to myself, "there's a lot more to this man than he likes to reveal."
A toast to Harold -- BRAVO!