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Where to begin? Liverpool, Paris, London. If you're thinking Liverpool doesn't belong in such august company, you would be wrong, at least as far as my family and I are concerned.
We went to Liverpool for a Beatles' pilgrimage and wound up falling in love with the city and its people. Expecting a grim, post-industrial city of abandoned row houses (in truth, they do exist) we found instead a lovely mid-sized city of culture, history (some ignominious -- the town prospered from the slave trade for a time) and fabulous green, open spaces just outside the city center. Some of these spaces have names like Penny Lane and Strawberry Field (singular, not plural, thank you very much.)
Last week, Liverpool honored the fallen from the 1989 Hillsborough tragedy, in which 96 people were killed and hundreds injured at a football (soccer) match. It had nothing to do with hooliganism, by the way, it involved a narrow tunnel and a barricade that gave way. 30,000 people filled Anfield Stadium last Wednesday to pay tribute. Organizers had expected around 10,000. Everything in the city came to a complete stop at 3:06 pm, the exact time at which the football match was halted on that fateful day.
No real entry this week, folks. Getting ready to go on a trip with my wife and daughter to London and Paris! I can feel the tears of pity well in your eyes for me. We need to get away, I can tell you that. It's been a long time. If any of you are in England, I will be at the Memorabilia Event at the Birmingham NEC on Sunday the 29th of March. And then on April 11, I'm doing "An Evening With" in London (see www.wolfevents.com). Come by if you can!
Thanks to all of you out there who offered your birthday wishes over the weekend. It was very kind and I really appreciate it. I am now at the age when birthdays occur approximately every 19 days. Years have become long weekends. I remember so clearly when my sister was old enough that it was deemed safe for me to go out in a rowboat as long as she accompanied me. She was 14.
When I was 22 and a senior in college I briefly dated a 26-year-old. She seemed so much older and more worldly than me (she was). Now I'm shocked when 26-year-olds are weaned and can walk and talk all by themselves. Soon it will be me who needs assistance with the walking and talking. More the walking than the talking.
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