I had to leave my husband, because he made it clear he didn't love me anymore, after less than a year of marriage.

I threw just about every article of clothing Iowned in the back of a VW and drove to New Orleans. It was 1974, and the French Quarter was not quite the tourist mecca it became. No casinos, no Riverwalk, no mega-big hotels.

I drove into town at dusk. A fog was coming off the river. I was negotiating for the room price on the gallery of the ancient Cornstalk Hotel. A very handsome man walked onto the porch and said, "I can show you a better place."

It was like the scene off the cover of a romance novel.

I took the room anyway, but he took to me to dinner and and invited me to go film wild mountain goats in Montana or someplace.He was a nature photographer who even had worked with Jacques Cousteau. I later interviewed him for a newspaper, so it wasn't just a line.

Although I didn't go on the camping expedition, I dated him for a bit.