Sometimes I sit at my computer in my home office and find myself stuck for words.

When that happens, I usually stare out the window to my back yard and watch the squirrels play trapeze artists on the telephone wires or stare at the walls around me.

Betty Grable poses in this undated pinup photo, which made her a favorite with U.S. troops during World War II. Her legs were insured for $1 million as a publicity stunt.

With the death of band leader Artie Shaw last year, so many '40s flicks turning up on TCM and the '40s influence on fashion, I found myself staring at two prized photos among dozens collected in 50-plus years as a journalist.

Growing up with big bands, they mean a lot to me. In one photo, my late sister, B.J., and I are seated with Benny Goodman, who was appearing at the Holiday House in Monroeville.

In the other, Harry James is studying his sheet music, a baton in his hand. Beside him is his beautiful movie star wife, Betty Grable.

The actress June Haver, who was thought to be the "new" Betty Grable when she arrived in Hollywood, only to be outdone by another blond pinup, Marilyn Monroe, died last year at age 79.

I am so aware of the passing of time. It's good to look ahead, but I'm starting 2006 by looking back.

The James/Grable picture was taken when he came here to rehearse the band for his wife's engagement at the New Arena in October 1959. He was not part of the show. She was the headliner.

You might not remember that nightclub, near where the former Bigelow, then Ramada, now the Doubletree/Bigelow Grille stands in Uptown, but it featured many well-known performers. Pittsburgh nightclubs were a big attraction to top acts.

I remember Grable nodding toward the mustached gentleman engaged in conversation with some musicians on the other side of the room. I hadn't expected to see Harry James.

"I think he loves me," she said. "He came in from Reading this morning at 5 a.m., after a one-night stand, just to rehearse the music for my act. He has to leave this afternoon for another engagement in Lowell, Mass."

I was ga-ga. I had been working at the former Pittsburgh Press for only two years when I was given this assignment. I had watched Grable in movies in my teens, and I had most of James' records.

One of my best childhood friends, the late Bill Beeson, wanted to be a trumpet player just like James, who was his idol. Another wanted to be Goodman, and yet another wanted to be Shaw. The drummer in that teenage band called Downbeats wanted to be Gene Krupa.

I admit, I would like to have been Helen O'Connell, but I can't sing.

It was my good fortune to meet these two stars who had been married for 16 years at that time. They had eloped in 1943. By 1965 they would be divorced.

I remember that Grable was not wearing makeup, but she was still beautiful. Her famous legs, said to be insured for $1.25 million by 20th Century Fox, were hidden by black slacks, and she wore flat-heeled shoes. I'm sure I stared more than I should have. I was a fan.

Her formula for a successful marriage, she told me, was not to let a career interfere. If engagements kept them apart too long, they just refused them.

"One-night stands for the band are where the money is, unfortunately, but even when Harry's on the road, we manage to get together, like now. I don't like leaving my girls [Vicki and Jessica, then 15 and 12] too long. I miss them too much."

While looking at that picture taken so long ago -- Harry James died in 1983 and Betty Grable in 1973 at age 56 -- I still think of them as I saw them that day.

"Look at the old man," she said, using a favorite term of endearment for her husband. "Isn't he wonderful?"

I feel privileged to have been there with legends, and I want to remind you of some incredible talents who have passed our way.

If you have been reading me all these years or for the first time online on the Post-Gazette's Senior Class Web page, I hope we can continue to share morning coffee or tea and more recollections of some of these remarkable men and women.