I met this girl in Chicago, and I told this story so many times to my friends that I guess they are sick to hear it. When I graduated, following a long-standing tradition of my University, some friends prepared a poster featuring some embarrassing pictures of my past years and a long rhyme telling the story of my life. No surprise the Chicago girl had her part in the narration.
Most of the girlfriends I had, in the following years, have been in some way jealous of this girl. Not that they had any good reason: we never met again, and yes she got married with the same boyfriend she had at home while she was traveling in Illinois.
Ten years have passed since those days on the Michigan Lake. Inexorably also this event become part of my memories, a story good to entertain my grandchildren — the only ones who will have, one day, the patience to listen it once again. And they will not believe that this old pal, back in his years, had so many adventures around the world.
I am thinking about my grandfather. He has been for long time my hero, and he still is. I spent hours listening at his stories of war, his adventures fighting the Nazis on the mountains: the life as a partisan, the time serving in the American army, the day he run away — abandoning his tank — to cross the enemy line once he was close to home.
Maybe my stories of blond russian girls will not be as interesting. But I have been privileged to grow up in times of peace.
A rare event, on The Incredible Tide: a blond girl.
A collection of beautiful pictures of Russian tennis player Maria Sharapova.