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5 comments

  1. I was twelve, standing with a bunch of other twelves along a frontage road in front of a mall (I guess they called them malls back then), next to the Queen’s BLVD, in Queens, NY when the motorcade stopped unbelievably right in front of us. Year-1962.  Mr. Kennedy stood up and faced a crowd of kids that could not possibly matter to his campaign.  He improvised a little speech about less school hours, less homework, and the love of family.  We jumped and squirmed under him, shouted praise and , in general, did not know what we were doing.  The motorcade advanced, and Bobby lowered his hands for us to touch.  Amoung the young fingers I felt a rough sun tanned finger, a finger of strength and electricity.  It took at least two weeks before I felt the earth beneath me again.
    What a great story.  “Grief chuckles” is in the hall of fame!  If only I had written this.  But maybe I did.

    • Tlrelf says:

      Didn’t a song come out around that time, or a few years later? Only the good die young?

      Enjoyed your tale. I am so wondering who these women are. . .

    • Mac Eagan says:

      Who wrote which story?
      Are you trying to steal my thunder?
      Or am I trying to steal yours?

  2. Mac Eagan says:

    There seems to be a parallel in the telling of this story to the development of the friendship between the two women.  At first Hannah seems distant, distracted and not necessarily aware she even has a guest.  But as the story develops a rhythm falls into place and at the end they are laughing together like soul-mates.

  3. I have to say that the five finalist’s stories have raised the bar, in this contest.  The level of talent and creativity is rich and deserving to behold.  The winner be best!

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