When I was much younger, and less burdened by thoughts of truth and honesty, and more in the spirit of joyful frivolity, I used to answer the telephone in my best Massachusetts voice with, “Eyah, White House, President Kennedy speaking. State your purpose.”

What I usually got in return was “Aw, come on, Orrin, you’re not fooling anyone. Now just listen and don’t interrupt.”

The happy fact that I had given it a try was always overshadowed by the sad fact that it never fooled anyone.

But never mind the presidential impersonations on the telephone, from time to time there are real opportunities to say exactly the right thing which, when done smoothly, leaves a glowing sense of pride and self satisfaction in that, “Yes, Yes, I did it, I said that one exactly right,” but when missed leaves me muttering over and over what I should have said, but didn’t think of at the time.

These opportunities come along only once or twice a year, and when missed are gone forever. Let me give you a specific example that still haunts me as a “missed, great opportunity I should have said:

(Ring, ring)

Hello, I’m calling to let you know your boat is ready and you can pick it up anytime.

Oh, Great! Thank you! Thank you! How did you know? I’ve always wanted a boat. What color is it?

But what I actually said was: You must have a wrong number. This is a private residence in Merrifield, Virginia, and we’ve never had boats here.

Truthful, honest and really stupid, and I think that opportunity will never come again, but I find myself still, two years later, practicing: Oh, Great! Thank you! Thank you! How did you know? I’ve always wanted a boat. What color is it?