I then turned to address Grandpa. “Anyways, having spent time with Mom and Dad in several hotels during the early part of my childhood, I remember the food wasn’t exactly cheap. Could the same get said for your Savoy dinner?” Grandpa replied that—provided he recalled the price—it cost over twenty dollars, which was a fortune back then. That may not seem like much today, even to the average American worker, but converted for 2009 inflation that one meal would have cost $165.03. Ouch. “What other things did you do to occupy your free time while visiting London? I’d like to think England offered less expensive propositions as far as recreation went. $165 in 2009 dollars for a single meal is just absurd.” “To this day, Al swears he’s never had
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“Let’s see here,” I responded, starting to count on the three rightmost fingers of my left hand. “He had the best cut of roast beef he’s ever eaten in his life, got to see two Broadway shows, and had a short-lived romance. If that doesn’t qualify as having a great time, I’m hard-pressed to figure out what does.” My Mom has said more than once that she wants me to someday get to travel overseas. “After my time spent in London,” Grandpa began to say, “I went to Paris on a three-day pass which was like Friday/Saturday/Sunday. The first time I was in Paris I had to go to the bathroom. I think you’re old enough to hear this story now, but it’s a hard one to tell without visual aids, so let me grab a pen and …show more content…
“In actuality, C-e-rd-an died in 1949 at the tender age of thirty-three and he was en route to America to train for a rematch with Jake La-Mott-a, who had dethroned him as champion via a tenth-round TKO. His airplane crashed somewhere in the Azores.” “What an awful way to go,” I responded. I thought it was bad enough that C-e-rd-an got cut down in his young prime, but the fact that his death took place before he could settle his unfinished business with La-Mott-a and attempt to regain the world middleweight championship—to take back what he had worked his whole life for, what was his—made the circumstances especially saddening to acknowledge. “As long as he had been able to avoid another shoulder injury like the one that rendered him a one-armed fighter when they met, he might have avenged the La-Mott-a loss,” Jay said with his arms stretched out at his sides in uncertainty. “Most likely by a decision, but I’m not ruling out a KO. We’ll never know. But there’s nothing wrong with dreams. And I’m dreaming about continental breakfast at the moment, boys.” On that note, we all got up from the couch—our posteriors having almost molded to where we sat—and Grandpa made us coffee and rolls with butter and jam. And yet, my brain got stuck on Edith and
“Let’s see here,” I responded, starting to count on the three rightmost fingers of my left hand. “He had the best cut of roast beef he’s ever eaten in his life, got to see two Broadway shows, and had a short-lived romance. If that doesn’t qualify as having a great time, I’m hard-pressed to figure out what does.” My Mom has said more than once that she wants me to someday get to travel overseas. “After my time spent in London,” Grandpa began to say, “I went to Paris on a three-day pass which was like Friday/Saturday/Sunday. The first time I was in Paris I had to go to the bathroom. I think you’re old enough to hear this story now, but it’s a hard one to tell without visual aids, so let me grab a pen and …show more content…
“In actuality, C-e-rd-an died in 1949 at the tender age of thirty-three and he was en route to America to train for a rematch with Jake La-Mott-a, who had dethroned him as champion via a tenth-round TKO. His airplane crashed somewhere in the Azores.” “What an awful way to go,” I responded. I thought it was bad enough that C-e-rd-an got cut down in his young prime, but the fact that his death took place before he could settle his unfinished business with La-Mott-a and attempt to regain the world middleweight championship—to take back what he had worked his whole life for, what was his—made the circumstances especially saddening to acknowledge. “As long as he had been able to avoid another shoulder injury like the one that rendered him a one-armed fighter when they met, he might have avenged the La-Mott-a loss,” Jay said with his arms stretched out at his sides in uncertainty. “Most likely by a decision, but I’m not ruling out a KO. We’ll never know. But there’s nothing wrong with dreams. And I’m dreaming about continental breakfast at the moment, boys.” On that note, we all got up from the couch—our posteriors having almost molded to where we sat—and Grandpa made us coffee and rolls with butter and jam. And yet, my brain got stuck on Edith and