And a young Latvian refugee (whose name I never learned to pronounce) that filled the air with dark, poetic laments over the post World War II loss of...his country.A truer conglomeration of mutually supportive, mixed levels of knowledge and expertise, couldn't be imagined.We'd gather, usually atGeorge's apartment (remember him?... he sold me Lucille), and we'd wail and flail deep into the night. Homer's bluegrass/folk music, Stoney's free-form jazz, Tom's magnificently extensive repertoire of. Afterwards Louise went for a rest. Sharon rang Richard."Hello?" Mr H it's me."Hi, Sharon!" I just wanted to tell you Louise's home. A bit washed out so she's resting at the moment. The doctor said it was just a vicious bug and that she'll be able to go back to school Monday." Oh, that's good." I also wanted to thank you again for last night. I don't know what I'd 've done without you." It was nothing, my pet. I could tell over the 'phone that you were in a bit of a tizz and thought it best if. More

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