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I’m thankful I learned to read and write English while attending “grade school” in Milton. That’s what we old fogies called elementary school when I was a mush-brained youngster trying to navigate life in the 1950s. (At least I learned to write in cursive!)

My grandkids used to bug me, wanting to know the name of the pet dinosaur I rode to school every morning. (It was “Dottie.”) During winter months, I hung onto the neck of my other dinosaur, a rare flying one I named “Ditto.” However, I digress…