Rat Pack

Handwritten page of a diary dated June 4, 1963

… never cried in front of me until today. Jessie’s mom cries at least once a month, doesn’t matter who is in the room. But my mom — NEVER!!!!!

It was today when we were leaving the hotel. We walked by these old guys wearing suits, getting their pictures taken, and she said “Rat Pack.” I don’t know what that means. Some kind of code words?

When she first said she wanted to come to Vegas I thought she wanted to gamble, but her big reason was to eat at the Golden Steer. She dated this older man who always promised her a Porterhouse there, and when she dumped him she said she could buy her own damn Porterhouse at the Golden Steer.

She’s not crying really hard. She can still talk. In fact I could clearly understand her when she told me we would go out for steak tomorrow instead of today. She stood there for a while until the men getting their pictures taken walked away, then she gave me money to go find some sandwiches for us. She told me to bring them back to our room, where she would be trying to compose herself. Whatever you say Mom.

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Original image:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1960s_in_Western_fashion
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