More than a dozen years ago, I learned that my friend Charlene collects autographs — by mail. I had never heard of this, but she offered to show me how to do it.

Being a big classic movie fan, I told her that there was no one left alive whose autograph I wanted, “Well, except for Lauren Bacall.”

So, she tracked down Lauren Bacall’s address for fans and instructed me to buy an 8 x 10 photo and mail it to her with a letter requesting an autograph and to enclose a self-addressed stamped envelope in which to return the photo.

I did, and a few days later, I received this back:

I purposely bought a more recent photo of her because I thought it would be insulting to ask her to sign one from the 1940s or 1950s.

As much as we all love her dramas from the 1940s (particularly with Humphrey Bogart, of course), it’s her comedies from the 1950s that I watch over and over again. I can’t even count how many times I’ve seen “How to Marry a Millionaire,” and I just watched my “Designing Woman” DVD two weeks ago.

RIP Lauren Bacall.

And thanks, Charlene.