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.

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