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From The Publisher's Desk
I was only 10 years old on Friday, January 20, 1961. In my classroom at Marymount Elementary School a miracle was unfolding. Instead of going over math homework, my fifth grade teacher instructed the class to put away our papers and pencils and sit at attention with our hands folded on our desks.
Sister Loretta’s long full skirt skimmed across the linoleum floor swooshing in a nervous flutter as she brought a shoe-box-sized radio from a cabinet and plugged it in. A man’s voice laced with static sputtered from atop the teacher’s desk. The good nun dialed in for better reception. My classmates and I sat up straight in our wooden desks, quiet, waiting.
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