I have a million little memories of Doubles nights and Doubles days. One of them was realizing that I had fallen
in love forever one night in the bar with someone whose memory is like no other to me. Another is of some jerk who
got in by accident one night, got very drunk and gave Charlie on the front desk a little trouble. I always thought
that Charlie was sort of a nice little guy until I saw him pitch that poor devil halfway up the long stairway, then go
up and pitch him up the rest of the way up to an open door. He came back down, rubbing hands with glee, a big smile
on his face. I never crossed Charlie again after that, anymore than I ever had before!

So let's all drink a toast to Earl Blackwell and Joe Norban, now both gone, and thank them once more for Doubles.
And to Wendy Carduner, Joe's daughter and the young lifeblood of the club, who sees to it that there will always be
something extra special to do at Doubles. Hooray for thirty years, and let's at least have thirty more. Just promise me
that my brand new great grandson, "Harry" Walling Martin, born a few months ago, can one day become a member
and grow up at Doubles too, just like I did.

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