I'm certain that he imagined he was doing a great thing for me, something I would remember for the rest of my life. He was right. As I remember southern California in those days, it always seemed to have too much sunlight and a steady dry wind which brightened the light even more as it reflected off water and the chrome of cars. Even though I was born in Anaheim-- a few years after the opening of Disneyland-- my parents were from the Bronx and I half-imagined that I belonged on the dark, cold eastern coast. Sunlight, particularly the bright blistering sunlight we had on that day took me to see his boat, made me nervously afraid for my fate. I imagined that someone would find me out and eject me from paradise. Those were the days when I thought I wanted to be a priest like Daniel Berrigan. I was a prized altar boy at La Purisima parish, and I think my peace symbol had something to do with a half-baked commitment to a God that I imagined to be more like Tom Hayden than . had a bayfront house at the end of a long private drive. asked me to wait outside while he retrieved . The entrance to the house was hidden by a high block wall. I stood beside the open garage door and watched for signs. The three car garage was empty but for 's huge green Pontiac station wagon which had driven home on nights when needed to borrow Dad's pickup. Beyond the Pontiac were shelves stacked with film canisters, labelled with thick grey tape. I recognized only a few of the maybe one hundred titles stacked against that far wall. The Sands of Iwo Jima. McClintock! True Grit. At ten, I didn't know enough to be properly impressed with the career that these films represented, but just the weight of their presence made a big dent in my mind. I took the time to remember what they looked like. I can still see them now.