by Len Joy
Back in sixty-two, before the drugs and the booze and the wives had taken everything he had to offer the world, the Kennedys had been his private guests, staying with him at his compound on the Island - Jackie had found him tres amusant and at dinner Jack had finished off his last bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild (vintage 1933 - before everything went to hell), but when he died last week at the age of ninety-five, he rated just three lines on page fifty-six of The Times, a death notice not an obituary - written, no doubt, by someone who had never heard of him, and read, no doubt, by folks who thought he had died long ago.
About the author:
Len Joy lives in Evanston, Illinois with his wife and three children. For fifteen years Joy owned and operated an automobile engine remanufacturing company with plants in Arizona, Virginia and Missouri. His work has appeared or is forthcoming inHobart, 3AM Magazine, Right Hand Pointing, NightsAndWeekends, GlassFire Magazine, Slow Trains, 21Stars Review, Boston Literary Magazine and The Daily Palette (Iowa Review). A collection of his short fiction was published by Bannock Street Books earlier this year. An excerpt from his novel, "Desperado," will be published by Annalemma Magazine in the fall of 2009.