BECAUSE I’M READING THIS NOW and PART ONE and because the friend I stayed with in Lakewood, Ohio this past week has a porch on his double house which I sat on and smoked—I never smoke in New York—I thought about being a young college grad, married, with a young daughter in a Lakewood double in 1969. I smoked on the porch then and listened to mostly folk music and read Kurt Vonnegut on a lawn chair on the porch. I taught grade school in a Black school my first year. A guy I taught with who became my friend had gone to law school and needed to teach that year for a deferment. I needed one too. We used to have beers after school. I don’t drink anymore. Some of my friends from my small rural hometown in Western New York didn’t go to college and went to Vietnam.
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