Larry was my first cousin, and our mothers shared the same bed at Hahnemann Hospital in Philadelphia before giving birth about a week apart. My brother, Earl (who died June 2nd this year), and I used to visit with Larry and his family at their farm in Shippensburg every summer while growing up. What a joy it was for some city kids to frolic on the farm each summer - jumping on haystacks from the barn loft, going barefoot along dirt roads, learning to ride a bike, and being awakened by the mooing of a cow at the screen door in the morning when we slept on the kitchen floor. I remember bonding with Larry one summer - being that we were so close in age - by giving him my treasured army belt and the book, My War With Baseball by Rogers Hornsby. We didn't see much of each other after reaching adolescence. But I do remember visiting him at Drexel U. in the fall of our freshman year of college. What a blessing to look back on - visiting "Larry, Garry, Donny & Steve" (and later, Shirley) in the idyllic countryside beneath the shadows of the Blue (Ridge) Mountain outside Shippensburg. I wish we had more opportunities to stay in touch throughout our adult years but, alas, the "gentle soul" here remembered will always be sacred to my memory. Jim Hulihan ([email protected])