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We left the truck stop behind us and moved to an inner suburb on the West side of Lancaster. Our duplex was built in the 1930's and had a big crack in the foundation in back. The wall there had shifted about an inch and had been repaired by "making it even" with morter at some point. The cause of it remained a mystery, but it never budged in the 23 years we lived there.

Hamilton Park ad

spooky ad for the "restricted" Hamilton Park development from the early
1920's, which may explain why my kid's classmates from the other side of
West End Avenue unironically referred to where we lived as "the rich houses".

I had earned an Associate in Specialised Technology degree and taken work at nearby F&M college in the psychology department, which was a real nice position. I had my own office with my name engraved on a little sign above the door.

Of course after a year or so I gave up that security to take a job at Clair Brothers.
I continued writing and recording on the third floor of 1131 Maple Avenue, in a small sunny bedroom facing the street, with a Tascam Porta Two Ministudio. I spent a lot of time there trying to get my $130 Epiphone acoustic to sound like a $1,300 Martin. Why not?
Maple Avenue