A man in Germany is looking for Elizabeth Frank, a girl he knew way back when, whose smile he remembers as though she is standing right in front of him. He knew her in high school, and remembers her fondly in connection with “cinnamon,” the “Moonlight Sonata,” and “the Oregon Trail.”

I have never been called “cinnamon” (“cynical,” yes, quite often) and I do play a mean and erotic “Moonlight Sonata,” (although not on my current piano, which cannot stand the strain) but alas, I am not the mädchen he seeks.

His internet search for the sweet and beautiful “Beth” of his youth landed in the inbox of the Arizona artist Elizabeth Frank, who sent it to me to see if I was she. I in turn forwarded the query to yet another Elizabeth Frank, who found me because she was handed the wrong prescription at a pharmacy in Manhattan. (We Elizabeth Franks are a tender and helpful bunch). From the date the man provided of his high school life, I must surmise that the Elizabeth Frank he seeks is neither the art critic and Bard professor Elizabeth Frank, nor Elizabeth Frank, the Astoria church organist.

There are more of us out there, then -- perhaps a thousand strong!

Labels: Elizabeth Frank

posted by Elizabeth at 9:11 PM