Once upon a time, I stood in a batter's box and faced a baseball pitcher who threw so hard I could not even see the ball. I just heard it go by.

The 1960s were like that, too. I apparently missed the 1960s though I was standing in the batter's box.

Missed drug temptation and curiosity, except for Novocain. It's a gap in my life, which probably means I won't be enlisting in the "transformational" anti-drug crusade in Porter County.

[continues 657 words]