09 January 2009

Class of '59

Class of 1955. Kubasaki High School. No place more transient than "The Rock". Army dads and air force moms. We used to sneak out after dark from Kadena. Back then Kubasaki was a couple of old Quonset huts. She graduated Class of '59. It was a crazy time. We were like trains. Like an army of swingnose railroad switches in the middle of the ocean.

Just then hit me the smell of warm metal and smoke from a snuffed match. Pot of hot water on the burner. A pinch of salt and a little olive oil so the pasta doesn't stick. Fried sage with butter. Pumpkin ravioli and a strict German Riesling. Bundesdienstflagge birds all over the bottle. Leftovers from Sigismund and the Holy Roman Empire. Old double-headed eagles die hard. God, she is as gorgeous as she is perfect.

My dad played softball with Springsteen before "Born in the U.S.A." and before anyone knew what a CD was. He drank with Hall and Oates when they were thinking about calling it quits. Thought they were done. Then they put out "Private Eyes" and everything changed. He knew Whitney and Mariah were gonna be stars. Got the gold and platinum platters to prove it. They're in the closet.

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