First love

First day of  my kid’s summer. First day of  being a FT Mr Mom.

It happens! I reflect on Summer 75 when I was looking forward to resettling in Central Pennsylvania.

America, Land of the Free. Back then, I was sure the nation was still in a state of shock, and perhaps was relieved that

I wish I could hang on to that  first-love moment for this country.

Everything at the time smelled strange and was hard to categorize: from the Pennsylvania meadow to Fall foliage, and onto snow flakes and snow frosts,

the perpetuating soft rock music on the radio. American should learn to love its land and ideals all over again.

From the kindness of strangers for a foreign student potluck dinner to a  coffee refill at the Corner Room.

How about just a “hello”, because we are all here today, gone tomorrow: American or Amish.

Let’s make this ride a memorable one. Long or short, it matters who you are riding with and how you enjoy his/her presence. Even the De Niro character  (a bounty hunter) could finally appreciate his apprehended accountant at the end of Midnight Train. First love was special because it came around once, and graced us with lasting memories. BTW, the perpetual song on the radio those days that sticks out was “I will never fall in love again.”


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