Fortunately, I wasn’t seriously injured in my less-than-stylish landing on the ski slope at Nagano. I sustained only a few bumps and bruises. I needed to heal, and I wanted to give my body some rest. So I journeyed to Hollywood to take in a movie. The year was 1966.

I energized in a parking lot, across the street from a theater in downtown Hollywood. I locked up the Corvette and zigged and zagged my way through the two-way traffic on the busy Holywood boulevard. Then I wedged myself into the middle of a block-long line, outside the front entrance of the movie theater. Hundreds of people had gathered to watch the premiere of One Million Years B.C., starring vivacious Raquel Welch.

The weather was miserable. It was raining hard enough to rust my already tarnished suit of armor. But I was able to protect myself from the torrential downpour. I found shelter under my broad black umbrella, which I had grabbed from behind the front seat in the car.

“B-r-r-r, it’s too wet and cold to stand in line all day,” I uttered to myself. “Besides, patience is not one of my virtues.”

I wielded my big war club, loaded with sharp spikes, as leverage to get in line, one position ahead of some little old lady, who was leaning against her cane, near the front door of the theater.

“I’m in a hurry,” I yelled, “and I’m crowding in! Is that all right with you?” The terrified, frightened, old granny was too petrified to speak.

I pondered for a moment about my apparent character flaw—my lack of patience. After I thought better of the situation, I stepped out of the line and wandered across the sidewalk, stopping at the curb. I asked, “Lord, how can I learn to be more patient?”

God promptly answered the call. “Wantsalittle, I remember the scanty cave-woman garb worn by Raquel Welch in her memorable screen debut of One Million Years B.C. She boldly fashioned a skimpy, tan, short dress, torn half loose at both the top and the bottom—an outfit that was also alluringly advertised on various theaters’ marquees. From My observation of Raquel’s sexy cave-woman attire, it appears as though I may have some serious competition for your immediate attention and affection,” the Lord said, light-heartedly, giggling as She spat out the last clause of Her long-winded introductory remarks.

I laughed and said, “You may be right, Lord. And don’t forget about Marilotta Light! I think that I could be very happy in the company of any one or more of the three of you lovely ladies. Of course, in Your case, I’m referring to the real Jessica Simpson!” We both chuckled. Then I repeated my earlier question, “Lord, how can I learn to be more patient?”

“Do as author Sinda Jordan suggested in her great book, Inspired By Angels: Give yourself the gift of patience. There is no need to rush the changes in your life. All is in perfect order. You have all the time you need to initiate the changes you desire. Pushing the stream creates stress, while allowing a gentle flow creates effortless movement. And as it says in the Bible, ‘In your patience, possess ye your souls’ (Luke 21:19).”

“Lord, you’re standing in the rain. Wouldn’t You prefer to step under my umbrella?”

“Yes, I’ll have to admit it—that’s a good idea! Wantsalittle, truly noble kings, queens, and great presidents are among those who understand the importance of both patience and persistence. Calvin Coolidge, former President of the United States, once spoke about persistence: Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. . . . Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan ‘press on’ has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.”

“Thanks, God! I know that I must practice being more patient, as well as being more persistent.”

“That’s right! Whenever you get in a rush, ask yourself, ‘What’s the hurry? Am I moving steadily toward my goals and dreams?’. . . I’ve got to leave you now, but remember this: As you think about these virtues, you will become more patient and more persistent. . . . By the way, Wantsalittle, unless I would have made a topless appearance this evening, clad only in a G-string, I knew that I couldn’t outdo or—perhaps more appropriately stated—outstrip the meager costume worn by Raquel Welch. That’s why I am standing here, without make-up, in loose, black, soiled, full-length sweatpants and dirty, smelly, old sneakers, along with a heavy, long-sleeved, drab-gray sweatshirt!”

“God, I wondered why You looked as though You had just got out of bed and slipped on Your working-out-in-the-gym garments.” We both laughed, and then the Lord disappeared into the sultry, rainy, Hollywood night.

Immediately, I wanted to practice “being patient.” I moved to the very end of the long line at the theater. A glamorous young lady walked up behind me. She wore a pure-white polar-bear fur. Under her fluffy, unbuttoned overcoat, she revealed a gorgeous, dark-purple, evening dress. The stunning gown had a plunging neckline. Accented by a white-gold necklace and a diamond-studded pendant, the elegant dress and jewelry made the already beautiful woman look sensational!

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Raquel Welch—and yours?”

“Sir Wantsalittle—”

Before I could spurt out my surname, Raquel exclaimed, acting insulted, “Mr., whatever your name really is, I’ve got half a notion to reach out and slap you!” Then she calmed down a bit. “Okay, Mr., I’ll take the bait. Sir Wantsalittle what?”

Almost afraid to answer, I sternly replied, “Sir Wantsalittle Morefromlife!”

“Well, okay! That’s an interesting name. I’m sorry that I got so upset there for a moment. If I offended you, please accept my sincere apology.”

“No, I wasn’t personally offended by your justified response. Long ago, I learned to expect people’s natural reactions to my unusual name. I was a bit embarrassed, I suppose. But it happens almost every time that I introduce myself to a female, especially a woman who is as attractive as you! . . . My Lady Raquel, I’m in no hurry. You can step in line, right here, in front of me.”

“Thanks, Sir Wantsalittle Morefromlife, for allowing me to get in line! And thank you for your nice comment about my being ‘attractive.’ As it has turned out, I’m glad that I had the opportunity to meet you. You are a real gentleman! I’d like to know more about you—your presenting yourself to be a genuine knight and all. Perhaps, we will see each other again one day.”

As Raquel completed her comments, we had reached the ticket booth. After we entered the theater, Raquel turned toward me, winked once, and gestured as though she were tossing me a little kiss. My heart sank as Raquel strolled past the curtains, headed for her seat. I wanted to sit by her, so I tried to follow her down the aisle. However, my cumbersome, weighty suit of armor made it too difficult for me to keep up. Suddenly, the lights dimmed throughout the theater; the movie was about to begin. I had lost track of the sexy starlet for now, at least. Nonetheless, I thoroughly enjoyed, throughout the next couple of hours, Raquel’s never-really-vocal, but always-captivating character, Loana, in the film.

(The moral of this episode: “Patience” and “persistence” are admirable personal virtues. Try to practice these psychological principles each and every day!)

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