"About 1963 one summer weekend, my ten year old son, Jef and I decided to climb the highest mountain in Southern California, Mount San Gorgonio. Car parked below Poopout Hill, we carried our gear up to Dollar Lake and slept in our bags, continuing the next morning up to the 11500-foot summit.

"I have vague recollection of the walk back to our car possibly because at age 44, I had become susceptible to Mountain Sickness. I had not been anywhere near that altitude for 5 years and had meanwhile gained 40 pounds. Back to the car, about 6000-feet altitude, regaining presence of mind, I could not account where or why I had lost nearly all of my gear, overnight oxygen deprivation denying me of all rationality except one, "to follow my son back down".

"Since that experience, regular exercise at higher altitudes and control of my weight, plus choosing to avoid thinking about a vacation in the Himalayas has preserved me."

Bob was driving Leny home from working as a household helper for Ruth at this time. He recalls:

"In the fall of 1963, Leny had been working at the Beverly Hilton Hotel and had quit to take better-pay and less-travel work at the Good Samaritan Hospital in LA, when she asked me to drive her one glorious Saturday morning to the Hotel so she could pick up her last paycheck. At that time I was driving my sky-blue 1961 Chevrolet Covertible withe the top down; It happened that President John Kennedy and his entourage were staying at the Hotel and we had difficulty finding parking nearby, but Leny got her check and soon we were starting our return to LA, driving East on Santa Monica Boulevard and were stopped by police at the intersection with Wilshire Boulevard.

"We were the first car in our lane and the police were escorting President Kennedy's Entourage Southeast through the intersection where we both stood up on the front seats of the open convertible and waved heartily at the President and Jackie and they in their convertible, surrounded by suited bodyguards waved back at Leny and I. This was about a month before they, riding in a similar convertible through Dallas Texas were still waving back at the people [when the assasination took place]."

After the Hilton job, Leny got a job at the Good Samaritan Hospital, but had to walk 3 miles to work from Ruth's house to get to work. Robert, gave her rides occasionally, until Leny got an apartment closer to work. From a saved phone bill, the address of this apartment was: 502 S Westlake Ave in Los Angeles.