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Philip Spiess
Yah, Fette, Spiess is O.K. (Did Andrew Jackson really initiate that term? Was he actually that illiterate -- or was he just hittin' the old Tennessee Sour Mash on a week night? Was he disoriented because he was about to be replaced on the $20 bill by a female?)
As I personally wrote to Rick Steiner on May 31, when I explained why I couldn't come to the Reunion, much as I wished that I could: "So give my best regards to all, and know that, at 70, I'm in what passes as 'good health,' also that I pretend to be as witty as ever -- luckily I still have my wits about me -- at least they were here . . . somewhere . . . a minute or so ago. . . . Ah! Here they are (no, that's my spectacle case . . .). Did the cat. . . ?"
So, all, as the Latin Department at WHHS used to say to us -- or should have -- as we drifted off, eager to take on the Modern Languages courses: "Ave atque Vale!"
Your friend and mine,
Philip D. Spiess II
(Still alive and kicking after all these years, and sleeping like a baby -- I cry and pee all night.)
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