Model American --------------- When I was eight, I did not love him and I was told to brush with vigor. Mother had no vigor, yet she liked the way he said this in a speech and tried to force it in my head. Grandpa grumbled how Jack was just like Joe, no damned good. Jack was no Berliner no matter what he said. Mother said not to listen, Gramps was old. All the teachers cried when he was shot, and they sent us home. I couldn't watch cartoons; each station showed the dark parade instead. When we returned, his ghost still rode the flagpole as an American example. My brother had a presidential model in a rocking chair. Its head had come unglued, so we put it in Jack's plastic lap since he was already dead... and he threw out no more baseballs because he can't hit he can'thithekennhidhekennedy -- he's out. Karen Tellefsen kat2@mindspring.com