Billy Graham died today. I met him once in Reno, NV around 1965. I was a punk kid working as a bellman at the Holiday Inn and the place was buzzing one night about some special guests that wanted to remain anonymous. I got picked to serve them dinner so I delivered four meals to Mr Graham and his wife, both in their pajamas, and the other two were going to the adjoining room where their daughters (I believe) were hanging out.

I was pretty star-struck and I was babbling on about some relative of mine that worked with Billy once and he was gracious and extended his hand, which I shook. I kept on babbling and he extended his hand again, which I shook again.

At that point he smiled and said “Could I have my check please?” The poor guy just wanted to eat his dinner…

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