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"Hello," I heard the cultured, worldly and refined voice say on the answering machine. "This is the Beach Lady. If you're getting this message, it may be because I have turned into a butterfly and floated out over the sand dune."
When I telephoned my friend MaVynee Betsch in American Beach, Florida, recently, I got her answering machine. It would be hard to overstate my amazement. An answering machine! In all the years I've known MaVynee, she's never even had a home telephone. Actually, for many of those years, she didn't have a home. She resided sporadically in a donated trailer or in loaned basement rooms, but primarily (and willfully) on a chaise longue on the ...