My Uncle Warren. We lived in Picueene Miss.
in 1966. We were staying at an Apartment Complex,
while my father was involved in the First Stage Saturn Test Facility,
outside New Orleans when I was seven. I had a cowboy holster and a silver
cap gun like the Lone Ranger’s that I used to go over to Uncle Warren’s
apartment and hold him up for cookies. One morning in Spokane,
friends of his daughter egged their house. He met them outside with
his gun, and made the boys lick the eggs off the house. We
were on the same wavelength he and I. He seemed to get my private joke.
September 