Monday, March 25, 2013



Detroit Michigan, somewhere around 1966 I would guess. I was nuthin' but knock-knees and black frame glasses. That's my house obscured behind me. If you look close in the driveway you can see dad's rusted 1958 Oldsmobile. Mom said we got a lot of anonymous neighborhood hate mail about that car, and also the fact that dad liked to leave the garage door open a lot.
Serving the lemonade up is Harry Jr., my buddy Greg's little brother. Apparently, Harry Jr. wore the shit out of those boots, and liked them so much his daddy had  them bronzed for him, so those boots live on. They will outlast us all. Greg sent me the picture last weekend.
I would never have expected to be in contact with Greg again, it had been 45 years since I left Detroit and we never wrote. But the world is smaller place these days, much smaller. Here's a great story about the gang Greg and I formed up with our other pal, Dave.
"The Blue Raiders" (click here)

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