My first escape was in about 1962 or 63. I carefully studied the workings of the door lock, but kept the knowledge to myself, waiting for the right moment. While Mom was busy dealing with groceries, cooking or perhaps dealing with the noisy infant she had brought home some months earlier, I reached up to turn the door knob, slipped out and down the stairs, and walked down to the street corner. Westheimer was a buzz of cars and trucks of all kinds. What an amazing sight it all was.
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- mark 3-02-2002 9:23 am