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Back at the Triple L
Circa 1980. We sang and strummed the guitar not believing but still going through the motions, because it took the mind off the situation. We played and sang “Michael Row Your Boat” and “All My Trials.” We were in the cottage in the winter. The space heater clicked military codes but no warmth came out of it. Mr. Schuler was the owner and manager of the Triple L but he was not a literary figure. A former air force colonel he was. “We” meant Stan Durriss and me. We were in corduroy winter jackets, and they were not the best against the cold. Snow drifts down outside the cottage with some flakes landing in the crotches of the birch trees. This was a Sunday. We went to the nearby church for a while but they didn't know what to do with us, secretly wanting us not to come. And sooner than later we got the message and we stopped going there. Our monthly allotment of $32 was already spent at nearby Southcenter. We were also out of cigarettes.
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