Brad Ferguson and I went to the same school from start to finish, although he was...ahem...older than me, so I really only knew him as Cindy's older brother. After I'd graduated and was enjoying being single--maybe a little too much--I met Duane Flaherty and a few of the guys he played music with. One of them was Brad. He was funny, smart, and scary talented. Fifty years later, he's still all that.
This is a short story he let me read and, when I begged, said I could use in the blog. It's in two parts--the other half will be here next Tuesday. I hope you enjoy it. I sure did.
It was 1958. My son Pete was a sophomore at Southside High School where I had been teaching history for 17 years. Teaching history isn't the most glamorous of jobs, but I enjoy it; it's my passion. I know I'm not gonna get rich teaching; so with a son, a car loan, and a mortgage, the wife had to take a job at Woolworth's to make ends meet more comfortably.