The infant in this photo, my nephew, turns TWENTY-NINE on Saturday. Zounds!
I had just spent the summer of 1982 working in the tourist town of Medora, North Dakota, and left from there to get back to Marquette just in time for the start of classes. I mean, I got in on the bus about six hours before my first class, I think. On the bus. The trip took over a day and a half. That included a six-hour layover in Duluth on a Sunday. I walked from the bus station on the south side of Duluth two hours north to a park overlooking Lake Superior, and back, carrying my guitar, and STILL had two hours to kill in the bus station. Nothing was open except a McDonald’s.
My family came up for Labor Day weekend because I hadn’t seen them since May. My sister, who had started the previous year with me at Northern, left so she could have my nephew, the little bugger in this photo who was born in June.
Dave saw this photo and said “You were so skinny!” I had been running for nine months as of this photo, and I had the metabolism of a twenty-year-old. Sigh.
I still maintain that I am not a hippie, and never was. But it looks pretty convincing here. I lost that hat at a Moody Blues concert around 1989, and I still miss it.