<h2><em>Every day when I was a kid I’d drop anything I was doing, no matter what it was—stealing wire, having a fistfight, siphoning gas—no matter what, and tear like a blue streak through the alleys, over fences, under porches, through secret shortcuts, to get home not a second too late for the magic time. My breath rattling in wheezy gasps, sweating profusely from my long cross-country run I’d sit glassy-eyed and expectant before our Crosley Notre Dame Cathedral model radio</em></h2><h2><u><em /></u></h2><h2><u><em>HOPE IT HELPS </em></u></h2><h2><u><em>THANK YOU </em></u></h2>
