I was driving into Los Angeles last Saturday, when Annie, my wife of decades, called and said she had some sad news. I don’t know why, but there was something in her voice and I said, “Wait, I’ll pull off to the side of the road.”
She gave me a moment before saying that Diane Keaton, the love of my youth, had died. Oh god, what a hit. She was 79, I’m older, so how ever could that be?
Though more than a half century back, the memories are sharp, intensely etched as only young love is. Diane was 19, I was 22.
We had met in 1965 when we were…
‘ The preceding article may include information circulated by third parties ’
‘ Some details of this article were extracted from the following source www.imdb.com ’
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