When I was in the third grade, I was named a last-minute substitute to go to a Red Sox game with the third-grade patrol boys. I was so excited that I threw up my milk at lunchtime. I don't get that excited about many things anymore.
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At that age, I really didn't understand how baseball was played, but I did see my father's hero Ted Williams get a hit. I think that later today I will buy a Ted Williams T-shirt, sporting number 9, to commemorate the event.
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In those days, third-graders were entrusted to stop traffic with red flags on long poles and let pupils cross the street. That would be unthinkable today, yet I suspect the patrol boys of yore were often more alert than some of the people I see doing the job now. And they certainly earn more than a once-a-year Red Sox trip to Fenway Park was worth ... in those days, anyway.
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Did you know that the letters in "ELEVEN PLUS TWO" can be rearranged to read "TWELVE PLUS ONE"? Amazing.
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