Monday, March 7, 2011

Chapter Two


Curfew in Fort Smith, Arkansas, on a Saturday night is 12:30 a.m.—at least it was on March 5, 1966.  My buddy, Tom, dropped me off at home about 12:20.  This gave him just enough time to get home before curfew.
I was seventeen years old and had lived in the area for eight years.  Having grown up in the area, I was well into everything: an Eagle Scout, a member of the Methodist church, a member of the German Club, Hi–Y, Key Club, and Student Council.  I was so busy organizing my time that junior year, I had started carrying a shirt pocket date book in my back pocket.


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