I met Norman Mailer in high school, actually. One of his sons went to my school, and he was in one of our plays. I couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say to him, although a friend of mine asked him about blurb he’d given that was on the back of our copies of “Waiting for Godot”, which was something we’d recently read in class.

All I really remember of him is that he had all this wild white hair…