I was named after my late father Joseph Howard Manning, which makes me a junior. My mother was afraid that I might be called "Little Joe," so I was known as Howard, and soon as Howdy. When I was about seven years old, the Howdy Doody Show became a big hit on TV, and well, you can guess what happened.

Last Christmas, with the help of my son-in-law, I learned how to use my computer to make CDs from my old record albums and cassette tapes. Since I was a teenager, I have been an ardent music fan with a wide variety of tastes (jazz, classical, rock, folk, Latin, film scores, bluegrass, Tin Pan Alley standards, etc.), so I have built an enormous collection over the years.

My wife and I recently took up temporary residence for a month in my mother’s house, after she was diagnosed with a terminal illness. She spent her final weeks at a wonderful Hospice facility nearby. It was a sad and stressful time, but the friendly people and the comfortable livability of Mom’s hometown was a blessing. That town is Easton, Maryland.

I lived in Greenbelt, Maryland, from August 1948 to January 1951. My father and mother, Joe and Betty, married in 1939, but they saw little of each other for a while, thanks to the Army and World War II.

I came from a musical family. My paternal grandparents were string players who had traveled many years in vaudeville. My father played the violin, though not professionally, and loved classical music. I remember my mother singing along beautifully with Doris Day and Bing Crosby, while listening to Eddie Gallaher on WTOP.

We were just about to order dessert when we spotted a man sitting all alone at a nearby table. "He looks like Brubeck," one of my friends whispered. "Maybe it is," I said, "why don’t you go over and ask him?"

I bought some Nik-L-Nips (remember the little wax bottles with colored syrup?), slunk down in my seat, and watched the double feature. Between features, I discovered the bathroom, down in front on the left, where you presumably did your part to replenish the Patuxent.