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August 24, 2017
I might have burned my eyes a bit staring into the sun too long while hammering down the turnpike from New York. I had been to Syracuse to visit my daughter who was defending her doctoral thesis. She was successful. The celebratory dinner was a small affair in a Mexican restaurant inside a converted church. It was a small church. It reminded me somewhat of the church I grew up in although the ceilings here were higher and the room not as wide as remembered. A man can be only so many places at one time. One to be exact.