– After that, my confidence in strangers diminished.
The bicycle delivered me to-and-fro until the weather changed, and the snowy, windy, 6-month Lake Erie winter arrived.
All content for 6-minute Stories is the property of Randell Jones and is served directly from their servers
with no modification, redirects, or rehosting. The podcast is not affiliated with or endorsed by Podjoint in any way.
– After that, my confidence in strangers diminished.
The bicycle delivered me to-and-fro until the weather changed, and the snowy, windy, 6-month Lake Erie winter arrived.
– because it was there—our Mt. Everest.
We never formally identified the squealer who called the police, but the local constabulary turned up in the form of Skippy Brown, a favorite local enforcer of the law.
– Nothing would deter us from enjoying our well-earned evening out.
Ash-gray script swirled across the textured buff pages like hazy clouds crossing the sky at dusk.
– “Let’s do it ourselves.”
I punched button after button, painstakingly input the titles of programs using that archaic alphabetical system and ended up in some endless inescapable loop.
– “You’ve got to do something about this,” they jibed him.
Of course, later they told their kids that they loved us all. Usually they added, “despite the headaches you caused us.”
— I respected the officer and assumed he would also respect me.
This was not just the assassination of the President; it was the death of hopes and dreams.
— whatever enlisted men played, or claimed to play, an instrument
An order came down to me to have the band looking sharp, sounding good, and ready to lead the parade.
– “I’ll take care of this, Honey.”
Eleanor and I dragged our stocky, dark, wooden desk chairs up to our door to peer over the open transom at the long hall.
– After that, my confidence in strangers diminished.
The bicycle delivered me to-and-fro until the weather changed, and the snowy, windy, 6-month Lake Erie winter arrived.