Sinatra and Hepburn

The Jet Set

Or: How Little Mama Inspired Visions of a Glittering Future When I was about 12, my grandmother and I were sitting in the sunroom playing Gin and chatting. Memories of the subject of our conversation — the what or, more likely, the¬†who — is a long-dead casualty to time. What I do remember, though, is…
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