In Laymon's Terms

Gary Brandner

MET DICKIE LAYMON, as I knew him, in the legendary Pink Tea writers group. He took my place as “the kid” of the group. There was an immediate rapport between us for the best of reasons: we laughed at the same things. Throughout life the best friends and sweetest romances are those who share our sense of humor. Dickie and I laughed together at the pretensions and pontifications of others, and at our own failings and foibles as well.

Coincidentally, Richard Laymon’s first published story appeared in the issue of Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine that carried my second. Since I already liked the guy, I was pleased to find he was a damn good writer.

We were both single at the time, and roistered around together a good deal. There were parties and pranks and foolishness that helped break up the long, lonely hours a writer must spend at his trade. I cherish the memories.

Whereas I am a little reticent about meeting people, Dickie was a natural. If there was a celebrated writer we both wanted to meet at some function he would yank me along and introduce both of us. Some firm friendships started that way.

Dickie loved Halloween. Trick-or-Treaters at his house got a bonus when a crazed killer stormed out roaring and waving a bloody axe. Many of them did not wait around for the laughter that followed.

He was best man at my wedding. His easy-going sense of humor kept me calm in the hotel room before the ceremony. His friendship in the years that followed was a treasure. I miss him.