She was working with the Jaycees (yes, they
exist and even flourish in the Big Apple) on the Special Olympics,
a sports competition for “special” children. Special meant
retarded, for the most part, and frequently, physically disabled.
In addition to her routine 60-hour-plus-4 a.m.-Telex weeks, June
donated her enormous energies and ingenuity to things like the
Special Olympics. The timing of the sore asshole, in a way,
couldn’t have been better. The program was going to greatly limit
the time we had together for the next week — and it was one of the
many reasons I was becoming more and more taken with her.