positioned well to flaunt his speed here

I worked with a lovely Italian girl many years ago who married a fellow whose last name was BERRY. Jeez, what a rack she had!

Anyway, she and her husband moved to North Carolina to avoid the onerous taxes on their home in New Jersey and she wrote me a letter after her baby was born.

I never answered that letter from Mrs. Berry but as a young married man I always wanted to hook up with Donna when she was single.

I never did and I could have.

Oh yeah, filth and bad guys and lust and bad decisions were around when I was young - Jeez, my mother used to tell me about girls that "put out" back in the 1920s and 1930s.

I'm just happy that I went to first grade at Holy Cross on Church Avenue in Brooklyn in the early 1950's and was able to peek up girls' skirts before the nuns caught me and beat the hell out of me. The nuns set me on the straight and narrow path to be a nice boy.

Google her..............

Jeez, Paul, I was a small kid when my father told me "You can't ever go back, you can never get young again, you can't ever grab back a moment, a minute, or a time in your past. You just have to plow ahead if you're still alive."

Last summer ago I cruised by the new house my father bought in Hempstead, New York in 1953 as a 39-year-old disabled veteran out of WWII off the G.I. bill.

The trees in the street were gone, the house had been extended, and the block was loaded up with many people. The young females seemed to be all belly-out and the males all seemed to be on the night shift since a bunch of them were outside and drinking during the day.

I remembered the DeRussos, Lombardos, McVeys, Greenes, Ryans, Sheas, Hoffmans, Hollands, Rices, and Nettis on that block - Booth Street between South Franklin Street and Nassau Parkway. We lived at #16. It was a paradise in the 1950s and 1960s.