The story, The Winter Flies, was in Judith Merril's huge anthology SF12. We rarely get to thank those who shaped us. Our mutual friend Harlan Ellison had sent him a copy of Sandman #18, A Dream of 1000 Cats, which was my own small tribute to Leiber's cat stories, and I told him he had been an inspiration, and he said something more or less inaudible in return, and I was happy. He said nothing, during the dinner, not that I can remember. He seemed so old: a tall, serious, distinguished man with white hair, who reminded me of a thinner, better looking Boris Karloff. We were sitting next to each other at a banquet at the World Fantasy Convention. I met Fritz Leiber (it's pronounced Lie-ber, and not, as I had mispronounced it all my life until I met him, Lee-ber) shortly before his death. Fritz Leiber with wife Jonquil, Beverly Hills, 1937
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