I consider myself to be very fortunate to have attended the 1976 Summer Olympics in Montreal. I traveled there with Marty who took care of all the logistics. (Thank you, Marty!) We took a Greyhound bus to Montreal, bought a ticket package to numerous events and slept in a youth hostel that was a fifteen-minute train ride to the Olympic stadium.
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About two or three years after high school I flew with Marty out to Denver and we saw Bob in Fort Collins for a while and then Road Trip! to Las Vegas. We were starting to feel tired a few hours out and wanted to find a place to sleep. After seeing a couple of places with No Vacancy signs we were getting discouraged. Finally we stayed at this decrepit motel in Fruita, Colorado. Al least it was cheap, but it was so bad the door did not close and we had to move some furniture against it for added security.
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It was early or late spring 1970 and the country was in the midst of many anti-war protests. When the “silent majority” decided to organize a protest of their own. Not so much a pro-war demonstration but something to show that America was still a great country despite the divisions caused by the Vietnam War.
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When I was a freshman in high school I was stung by a bee while searching for golf balls in a field adjacent to the 10th hole of Silver Lake Golf Course. I ran after being stung. I was only stung once and I didn’t think much of it. I kept looking for golf balls for a little while, then I noticed by dog Biff
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Aunt Rosie (actually she wasn’t really my aunt but was my cousin’s aunt – but we always called her Aunt Rosie) worked for CBS – I think as a secretary – but I am not sure really what she did there. Sometimes she would give me and my brothers tickets to TV shows. The first time she did this the three older brothers (Marty who was 6, Myself who as 5 and Bob who as 4) got tickets to
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Ok so this is somewhat related to my brother Bill’s famous Big Push story. Recall the mention of the nuns that waddled around. My cousin Mary Ellen identified one of the waddlers as Sister Rita. Anyways, I had the good fortune to have Sister Rita as my fifth grade teacher. Turns out that
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The first girl I ever had any kind of social interaction with (besides my five female cousins who lived a couple of blocks away) happened at a dance for the graduating 8th graders and alumni of the preceding class of Sacred Heart parochial school. So basically 8th graders and freshmen who had just completed their first year of high school. I do not recall going to the dance as an 8th grader – but that was probably because as a freshmen this was the first time ever for the dance. The dance was the brainchild of
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Both myself and my cousin Kevin were going to graduate school at the University of Texas at Austin and decided to drive down to Padre Island near Corpus Christi, TX for spring break. It was either 1977 or 1978. I had bought a big old car, not sure what make it was – maybe a Gran Prix – for $350 from one of my teachers after he got me a loan from the faculty credit union. It was a big hunk of American metal, comfortable and good – except for one thing
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