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Alone For The Holidays I like to think that if something rings true for me then it must be true in general for others. While this may be often true. I have found, much to my chagrin, It's not always the case. E very year when the holiday season starts up I hear about people who have no where to go for the holidays. It's presented in a way that elicits both a feeling of sympathy for those in this situation and a realization of how blessed the rest of us are. I too think these things but it's more an intellectual thought than a feeling. Part of me is a little envious. I have liked all the holidays I experienced alone without family or even friends. I like having time alone. I have never been a big fan of holidays, other than they can mean no school or work. Now that I am retired I find holidays more enjoyable, but prior to retiring I saw a holiday that involved a family gathering as more of a time waster. Getting together with the whole family was not

Hitchhiking to Terre Haute I' ve always liked that feeling of freedom I got whenever I hitchhiked. I could choose to go any direction, I did't have to worry about a car, and I never knew who I might meet. Hitchhiking to Terre Haute in the fall of 1967 stands out especially in regards to the latter. W hen I was seven my family moved from Levittown to Huntington, well I should say Huntington Station as Huntington proper was a little too upscale for us. Huntington Station was a whole 12 miles away from Levittown. It was about 25 miles, by car, from my grandparents house which was about a stone's throw from the NY city line. I remember my grandparents saying we moved to the country, but it was, in fact, still the suburbs. The area had once been called West Hills and was once home to some guy named Walt Whitman. At the time I really didn't know anything about Walt Whitman but I knew he was notable because my high school was named after him. His old ho