Believe it or not, I was in Los Angeles, at the Ambassador Hotel, when Sirhan Sirhan shot Bobby Kennedy. In fact, I was one of the first to get to him after he'd been hit. I knelt there next to the man, on the cold kitchen floor, and, feeling the words of Kipling stirring in my soul, I thought I'd offer him some refreshment. He'd just had a glass of water before he went down, and, since a bowl of greens sat on a counter a few feet away (it was a kitchen, after all), I offered the injured candid....
Palindrome of the Day
