Bill Keene

It was so very right of you to incorporate the outrageous puns into your Bill Keene obituary (April 6), for his wordplay was rapid-fire and really quite miraculous. His daughter’s e-mail notification of Bill’s death was a time machine and I was 15 again. Scottsbluff, in the Nebraska panhandle, was the place. I was undersized and way under in the talent department, but the new freshman football coach, Bill Keene, nudged me toward daily malt inhalations at the Gold Medal Dairy. I never nailed down the skills but did put on sufficient poundage to prompt Bill’s nod. I got to be a part of the almost mandatory football realm. I got to belong.

Thanks so much, my friend. Through the years in Denver and later L.A., our paths would cross through our individual radio and television involvement. About a year ago, Bill was in Del Mar. I drove down. We spent a nostalgia-bedecked afternoon together. It was an absolute joy. Keene, my wife is stitching an item in your memory. Sew long, it’s been good to know ya.

PERRY ALLEN

Carlsbad

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Keene introduced us to that ubiquitous duo, Catalina Eddie and Offshore Flo.

LOUIS ST. MARTIN

Pomona