The call was long distance; he was on his way to Bristol for the night race. I never questioned even once that it was really he; I recognized his voice. Subsequent to the initial shock, I actually felt a little embarrassed. He said my poem and letter had touched him. All I could think was that I wished I'd written something a little better; something that hadn't sounded so sophomoric. Something Pulitzer-Prize winning.But still, somehow, what I had...