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From The Publisher's Desk
I’ve spent the last few days trying to recall details from 40 years ago. It was May 1969, at the end of my freshman year at USF, when a friend took me to a party at an apartment on Balboa Avenue. Our hosts were four young men going into their senior year the next fall.
What I remember most about that night was Creedence Clearwater’s “Born on the Bayou” on the stereo. One of the hosts, Jess, played it over and over. He became my close friend until we went our separate ways a couple of years later. His roommate Steven, whom I met that same evening, is still my friend.
The next January my dorm roommate Claire, two other girlfriends and I decided to move into an apartment. We needed another roommate in order to afford the $250 a month rent. Steven had a younger sister. Maggie became the fifth roommate.
In his senior year, Steven worked as a resident assistant in the men’s dorm. On the nights he wasn’t on duty in Phelan Hall, he slept on our sofa. He was our sixth roommate.
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