The year was 1976 or 1977, and I was 14 or 15 years old. I was attending one of the semi-annual card shows at the Roosevelt Hotel in Manhattan (New York City). It was late in the afternoon and I had developed a bad headache. I was sitting in the lobby, where they had plenty of plush chairs and sofas.
I probably had my face in my hands when I was approached by an older gentleman who inquired if I was okay. I told him that I had a bad headache. He asked if I was staying at the hotel. I explained that I had attended the card show and was waiting for my headache to subside before taking the subway home to Brooklyn. (I'm paraphrasing. I don't think I used the words "attended" or "subside" at age 15.) He asked if I had taken any aspirin, and I said that I had not. He then walked away, only to reappear within two minutes with aspirin and a paper cup of water. I took the aspirin and thanked him before he walked away.
A few months later, I attended a smaller card show. (I don't remember where.) I ran into the aforementioned gentleman there. Much to my surprise, he was signing autographs. His name was Cal Abrams - former Brooklyn Dodger.
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