The first established the access he offered; the second seemed to comment on my place in our burgeoning relationship.
The tone had been set, and I was prepared to play my part.
My own began to emerge at the age of eight, with a glimpse at the VHS cover of .
There he was, a thoroughly weathered, silver-haired Marlon Brando, awash in that oversaturated amber light so redolent of the '70s.
A writerly mind in cowboy boots, always eager to play up his remove from the Establishment, he courted me long-distance with two-hour phone calls, eventually flying me to his ranch out west.