Gave away one “Cheesesteak.”
It went to a law school classmate. He had introduced himself first week because our fathers had been law school classmates and neither of us wanted to become lawyers. He wanted to become a newspaperman and I wanted to be a writer. I became a lawyer and he became a reporter, bureau chief, and executive with the NY Times, WSJ, Forbes, and Time, Inc. (He was also the only other person in our class of 172 whom I knew for certain smoked dope.)
In other news, “Heart” was declined by an agent to whom it had been personally recommended by an author of high repute. The agent said publishers were “reluctant to publish memoirs about medical conditions.” Which seemed to overlook substance abuse, eating disorders, depression, schizophrenia, assorted cancers, and all sorts of people cured of all sorts of disorders through faith and spirituality. Maybe the shelves are short on heart surgeries, but I would have thought an open niche a good thing.
Which shows you what I know.