Jack was the velvet hitchhiker.
The typewriter and his road. He was
cursed with nonchalant genius. Words
worshipped him. Allen and Neal were
jealous of the Lowell hometown boy.
The athlete at any sport, the worker, the
college student and the occasional
sailor. He was a lover of lost time. The
gatekeeper of abstract thoughts. He
conquered open roads and big cars with
windows pushing air from the mid plains
to mountains and cities by the bay.
Every day was a challenge to create;
finding the angle, releasing a diamond,
catching a star.
Roger Singer 