To an Athlete Dying Young

I remember that day so vividly,  it’s hard to believe it’s been almost 60 years. In the fall of 1963 I was in my senior year at NYU Heights.  (See Ghostwriting in the Family and College Theatre) I was a member of the Hall of Fame Players,  our college theatre group,    and on Friday,  November 22th  we were rehearsing a play when someone came running towards the stage crying out that Kennedy had been shot in Dallas.   Of course we  stopped the rehearsal and amidst our shock, ...

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