As some of you may know, I’m the daughter of a town marshal—Grady “Skip” Lael, of Northport, Washington, the small community where I grew up. Things were so different back in the day that some of my memories are in black-and-white, like an episode of “Leave It to Beaver” or, more to the point, “Gunsmoke.”
My dad was a major fan of that show, and I remember that he used to come home, interrupting his patrol time, to watch James Arness and his fellow cast members paint a life of integrity, courage and strength. He was young, a former rodeo cowboy and United States Marine. He fought on Iwo Jima, where the life expectancy between the ship and the shore was about 30 seconds. And he wanted to be the best marshal he could, so he watched Matt Dillon and learned from him.
He never actually admitted that, but I know it was true.
Imagine how amazed he would have been, then, if he hadn’t passed on before it happened, when I was invited, thanks to my good friend Bill Francis, to travel to Dodge City, Kansas, and meet surviving members of the original cast, including Buck Tayler, talented artist and warm-hearted cowboy, who played Newly, the stagecoach driver, Bruce Boxleitner (later starring in Scarecrow and Mrs. King), the beautiful Jess Walton, and—drumroll, please—Burt Reynolds.
When Buck, who, with his lovely wife, Goldie, has become a treasured friend, introduced me to Mr. Reynolds as a romance novelist, the man grinned that famous grin of his and with a twinkle in his eyes, tilted his head to one side, cowboy hat in place, and drawled mischievously, “I can still kiss.”
Well, I’m here to tell you, that remark set me back on my heels, even though I laughed.
I could have kissed Burt Reynolds, and I didn’t. Darn it!
