Meanwhile I was in Oviedo, and Arthur Miller proposed we have lunch, just the two of us so we could spend some hours just talking. Suddenly I’m having lunch with the author, who along with Tennessee Williams shared the exclusive shrine in my Brooklyn apartment. And folks, as if life were not unfair enough, I got the same award for artistic achievement that he got. A lunch with Arthur Miller was something I could have only fantasized about as a boy, as a young man, even the week before. I asked a million questions, and I recall quite vividly that he confirmed for me that life was indeed meaningless. I told him how I felt about mortality. I likened it to when you’re used to waking regularly at a certain hour each morning, let’s say eight, and on a particular day you have a seven o’clock appo...