The death of a former student at the age of 23 got me thinking about that age. When my dad was 23, his first child was born. I was studying at WSU. Mom was in college at OBU. My brothers were either working at a warehouse or a grocery store. 23 is supposed to be a chapter in the middle, not the end of the book
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I was in my second year of grad school at U of I, looking forward to being married in another year.
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