Kate, Peg and Ellen Ryan

Three sisters were interviewed during the Rockies game, which made me think of my three. The Ryan sisters lived together in a house only a decent walk across the city park from where I lived during the early and middle 60s. They were churchy women, who, for whatever reason, took some sort of interest in me when I was in elementary school, probably, in part, because I played organ in church during that period.

What little memory of them I have was that they were in their 60s to 70s. Kate was an effusive sort, Peg was the least interested in me of the three, and Ellen was cordial, but formal. I seem to recall that Peg was more sickly than the other two. They would give me small religious readings or consecrated saint cards when I visited.

To this day, I have no idea why I went to their home. I simply do not recall. I am also somewhat amazed that I remember their last name. It has to be nearly forty years since I’ve seen any of them.

Nick Thomas

Nick and I were close friends for four years through seventh grade – his family moved to Chicago right before eighth – and he and I always competed for solos for the midnight mass we attended as part of the school choir. He beat me out two of the three times we went head-to-head.

He, Jeff Clawson and I were sort of the three musketeers of our recess playground.

Charles P. Amacher

He was a friend from my college days, and sometimes we’d join up at Java Express for either study, or a rubber of bridge with a couple of other friends, or, if studying flagged, rolling the Amigo pinball game at the next door arcade.

Once his bicycle was stolen (he lived only about four blocks away). I knew his bike fairly well – it, like mine, was a steel-tube English racer. His also had some crude touch-up paint on the frame. One afternoon not long after it was stolen, three kids came ambling down the hill in front of my apartment house, two of whom were walking bikes – and one of them was Charles’ beater.

I confronted them about where they got the bike, and they were naturally evasive. I got someone to call the constabulary and Charles, and he got his ride back.