The steam of pot roast but she is not there to share the meal.

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Feckless listening to country music alone with Jack Daniels was what became of John when he was alone. And she, who is she? First let’s start with him.

He is Colonel Frank Slade from the motion picture “Scent of a woman”. Like the title implies, he is obsessed with them. She could be anybody whom he can loose himself with, submerge himself into, entangled in her auburn hair, wherever he ‘looks’ that scent of a woman should be there. But she is not. He is blind.

Frank Slade had blown a grenade in his own face.

It almost happened to me once. I too would have been blind, and thus intense of a different kind. I was lucky, I should say. God is a genius to have saved me, for without these eyes my love would have not been so impassioned and expressive.

Colonel Slade was right, ‘God is a fucking genius!’ I see that in these silky afternoons and I see that in the softness of her face. I see that.

There is no one with lips like hers, or eyes that turn from blue to grey as sun takes over the moon in skies of mystery. Nothing like music and the sight of her in this very room and the feeling of her heart that beats for me in thousand nights every moment I live here with crying amazement.

Why could I not take you to the a diner for two at the Waldorf with a room like the one Slade stayed in, drive her crazy in a red Lamborghini and dance the tango? Love kicking me right between your eyes and the smile that is forever.

So back on the movie track, it is 1980’s late afternoon in upstate New York. Beautiful country home made of flint stones. It’s autumn and pretty, red maple trees are in full bloom and a balmy breeze makes it the perfect setting for love or pain.

He is alone.

He has to take a one-way journey — he can’t go on this way. He is not half the man he used to be. Hope is what we believe in but there’s no hope for Slade.

She says sometimes you have this expression of love and then it changes to lost wonder of vulnerable hope like a boy looking at the world for the first time. Her eyes were blue more than grey she said, and she smiled and I got lost in a world where she was my ruler. And her love for me was supreme. I went into a world where these eyes and I were set off together forever.

When she smiles, I go into ruptures of enjoyment. These moments are like a New York state of mind — always in a flux. But every mood is second to my submission to her, where romance rises from the ashes like a phoenix, and she responds with love and I thrive and we celebrate these moments.

“Do I look cool?” I ask.

She replies, “You are my artist, my Pacino.”

How many people have their own Pacino?

“You look like him. You look good in these gang movies. When you act like him you are very good.”

She actually corrects my pain on the page, shifting words around like a scientist with hands of a swan dancer. When we both silently know of my cancer.

Instead of being with a beautiful woman this misty afternoon with a Jack Daniels and no one else in the room, this is what he is thinking. Check it out: His savings in crisp hundred dollar bills are going to the Waldorf Astoria Freak show, New York City, to a last supper to put an end to a blind man’s darkness.

Slade spends cash getting a limo and first class plane tickets and a stay at the Waldorf. Then, to climax, a loaded .45 right in the brains and end the pain. Slade is dramatic, the way he thinks, the way he talks and everything. He is big with style.

What’s the point? Just hang on. I feel like telling him. And then you can, with obvious ease, the gorgeous, tall woman that you desire for your life, of your dreams, for a soul that is intact and not amputated.

There is a soul mate with auburn hair like Charlie boy says later, “You can get any woman you want. You are good looking. You can drive a Ferrari faster than anyone and dance the tango better than anyone. Stop being pathetic and feeling sorry for yourself.”

Anyway, faith throws them together and this is what happens: One helps the other to save his life and bring the scent of the woman in his life. That he can’t see, but he can smell touch and walk through central park. Return to the Waldorf Astoria without a love plan and a tango partner he can wake up to, entangled for ages. They met at the end and it was thanks to Charlie or that .45 would have sent Slade into the other world. Suicide is a crime, especially if you are Frank Slade and look Al Pacino.

Colonel helped Charlie. He set the tone. He ran blade through the by yuppie college. He stood in front of that entire prep school; the kids, the dean, the jury and he cracked the whip right there, he told them who was what, and what was who?

There are two kinds of people, one who run for cover and the other who stand and face the fire. “That is George Wills’s junior hiding in big daddy George Wills senior’s pocket, and this by my side is Charlie facing the fire. His soul is not for sale, and there is nothing worse than the sight of an amputated soul. This boy Charlie, he got balls, he’s got what leaders are made. This is a valuable future. Jury, caress it, embrace it, it will do you proud one day trust you me.”

In this way he made Charlie Simmons the hero that he deserves to be. After spending two days together they were friends constructive for each other. Now Charlie with his cute looks and a soul intact made of balls he was much the star in the college. Wow imagine that. The limo driver was a friend by now, the one they drove around in New York with. His last line of the story to Slade were “ not only will I drive you to New York anytime, it will be a pleasure,” and the black sleek automobile disappeared into a happy ending of hope.

There was love in the air as Slade had met the girl with whom anything was possible. Speeding down New York in a Ferrari, with love by one’s side, you’re blind and she has green eyes and a place called paradise that is all for you Slade. A dance of tango even if she didn’t know how to, he will explain to before they set out to dine, not a corner table like Siberia. She dances and he looks dashing, guiding her, taut and in control, they make a stunning couple, entertainment for the divine. She is bewildered by his authority, as he lead her she drops deeper in love, she rises in love and finds her heart where it was searching to always be.

Movies like these, this one directed by Martin Brest, are crucial to remember. For a blind man says, “the day you stop looking is the day you die.”

He talks of Charlie integrity and Brest gives hope to love in a dynamic manner, helped terrifically by Al Pacino’s Oscar-winning performance. What is greater than opening the window and showing the light to a blind man?