Memory (High School) April 2, 2016
The summer of ’64. A Bulldog, I became. And in the spring of ’68. I left. But, I remained. Eyes opened, to many things. Girls and grades. Future plans. So much happened, in those four year. Horses. Beatles. And Band. In the spring of ’68. New person, I became. Was the summer of ’64. My life, began to change. Dad moved us, to the country. Answering, his life’s call. His horse-training “hobby,” transformed. Now. Full time job, for all. I, along with my brothers. Became, part of his team. Feeding, riding, and cleaning stalls. Lessons, later redeemed. Mowed and patched. So many chores. Summer heat. Winter rain. The experience, did change us. As understandings, came. The summer of ’64. A Bulldog, I became. And in the spring of ’68. I left. Yet, still remained. Listened, on my transistor. The British Invasion. Beatles and Stones and Animals. Sweeping, ‘cross the nation. Boogie Kings, mesmerized me. I loved, the soul bands too. Something about, those brassy horns. Fan, of “Rhythm and Blues.” The “trumpet sound,” got to me. As much as melodies. Lennon. McCartney. Inspiring. But blaring horns, moved me. The summer of ’64. A Bulldog. Not yet trained. And in the spring of ’68. I left. So much, I’d gained. Began to value, good grades. Great mentors. They did teach. The girls in class, were beautiful. Yet, seemed so out of reach. Most six-weeks, made honor roll. Near top of class, I stayed. My first real date. The junior prom. A special effort made.
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