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10 Bicentennial Year Everything was at sevens and sixes in Mrs. Slocum’s class. I would turn six four days after America’s birthday. It was the year I learned to read and I was in love with Buck Owens. We drew letters with circles and lines, then sounded them out to make words. For weeks my bottom tooth was loose. During tornado drills we had to cover our heads and try to keep quiet. Grown-ups said Nixon like a sneeze. Buck’s guitar was blue, white, and red. On Saturday nights at six, he picked it and sang and sat on a hay bale. At school we got stars for being courteous, helpful, and neat. After the morning bell we faced the flag and said the pledge of allegiance. ...

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