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It was any Saturday in the late 60’s. I would open the top drawer of my dresser and pull out the stack of silver quarters my father had given to me from a recent trip to Vegas. Nancy was coming over and picking me up on the way. She lived at 1115 and I, at 1128. She liked Ringo. I liked Paul. A few years earlier we both had to be transferred to afternoon kindergarten because we couldn’t get up… [Read More]