From: Harvey Flatbush <harvf@iomet.com>
Date: Sun, Jul 18, 2010 at 3:06 AM
Subject: [MedicalConspiracies] "AWESOME,.WHAT A WAY TO FLY OUR FLAG"
To: medicalconspiracies@googlegroups.com
A Run Of The Mill Joe Blow
Over the past six or seven years of being on the internet I have scoffed at people that told me I should write the story of my life. For some unknown reason, a few people have chosen to like the way I write and express myself. I never really gave it a second thought until a very good friend of mine told me in no uncertain terms that I should write this story. So fasten your seat belts ladies and gentlemen, hunker down, get ready to chuckle now and then, relax and open the book. As you get into this story, you may wonder just who the heck is this guy? The answer is in the title below.
"A Run Of The Mill Joe Blow"
Started June 1, 2010
In a little house, at 1855 So. Eldridge Ave., near the Ben Ali Railroad Crossing in North Sacramento, California, the minutes are ticking by fast. The bedroom in my future paternal grandmother's house starts to fill up with the required people and a flurry of excitement is in the air. The activity is speeding up. A tub of hot water and a bunch of towels are brought in and the work begins. At precisely 8:15 am on July 6, 1932, Eureka!, a new spark of life entered this world and it was named Harvey and would you believe it? It turned out to be me. Like anybody else born into this life, I had no idea what was in store for me but my problems would be small compared with what some others would face.
<snip>
In 1945 we were living in Pendleton, Oregon. This was the first year my brothers and I had ever seen a rodeo and the Pendleton Round up was one of the leading ones in the country. To me the most thrilling part was the show opening. Two men in the uniform of the old time cavalry would ride out onto the arena towing a caisson, an old time cannon on wheels, aim it straight up in the air and fire it. You could see the ball going higher and higher. At a given height it would explode and the American flag would unfurl and float down hanging from a parachute. It was a beautiful sight. I am just as patriotic to this day. After the first day, although our dad was a preacher, two of my brothers and I would pack a lunch and stuff it inside our jackets and two hours before the show started, we would ask the guard if we could go in and watch the cowboys practice. They always let us in on the condition that we were to leave just before show start-up. Not us, I had to see our flag unfurl again and again and again.
I just thought this part of my story might be of human interest to you.
Harvey
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