Before the entire 800 Student Senior Class at my high school, a debate was conducted. The question was pro or con the appeasement by England's Neville Chamberlain in his acceptance of Hitler's offer of, "-peace in our time!"
Two students were chosen to debate. The custom and purpose was to provide points of view and, therefore, there would be no winner. One student, a young woman, opposed the acceptance. The other, myself, in an anti-war state of mind (What Kind of Fool Was I?), supported "peace in our time!" The ensuing arguments went well before an involved and loudly appreciative audience.
During the event, however, I had been beset with a whole bunch of adolescent fears, worries and depression. Did someone say "artists" are sometimes neurotic? It obviously didn't show on stage. But I was distraught!
Mrs. G., my Economics and American History teacher saw me heading for the school exit, almost in tears. This was one of those dearly beloved teachers that deserved to be sanctified. I was heading for home in the middle of the day without a pass!
She stopped me, "Leon (my first name back then), please stay a moment and let's
talk." We did. She listened. She said, "One day 
soon,
I would like you to come over and have a talk with my husband and myself." A
week later I did, and after an hour's intense but caring conversation I had
begun to see the possibility of finding "peace in my mind!" Things improved
and in 1942 I enlisted in the U. S. Army.
Then as Lowell Thomas used to say, "Time Marches On!"
In 1944 I returned home, on leave, as a 2nd Lieutenant. I could hardly wait to visit Mrs. G. and greet her in uniform! I called and was told by her cleaning woman that she wasn't in. I gave my name and left a message that I would call again. A while later I did. Mrs. G. answered and as soon as she recognized my voice, without any preliminary small talk she said, "Leon, where are you, there's someone I'd like you to meet!" She then gave me the name and telephone number of her niece. I made two calls. On the second call we arranged to meet at the entrance to the Municipal Building in Manhattan. She would recognize me in my winter uniform with a copy of Life Magazine under my arm. We met. We courted. We corresponded and as soon as I received my discharge we wed. This is Jocelyn.