It was just this past weekend that I met with Don Beckner. We were drinking beer in the garage behind his house when my cellphone rang. It was my wife. She'd been going through some old files in the attic and came across an old newspaper clipping that detailed an encounter between Don and a man named Herman Mackey. In addition to being one of the pioneers of orthodontics back in the fifties, Mackey had swindled my half-uncle Leo Farncosa out of his quarter-interest in a semi-booming wholesale muffler distributorship out near the Five Highway Easement. Some folks just want to forget those days, but that's for another time. Anyway, while my wife nattered on, Don turned his back to me and went over to the workbench. I saw no reason to be afraid, even though I knew better. I smelled burning hair and got a hard-on. This always happens, I just don't know why.
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