Childhood was a long time ago for me, but if I close my eyes and think of my folks' backyard in Omaha, the memories come rushing back in waves so large and powerful they threaten to alter worlds, or at least mine.My dad was a man of few words, and even fewer observable emotions, except during those few hours on a sunny Saturday afternoon each fall when the Nebraska Cornhuskers stepped onto the field and summoned passions and frustrations in him that seemed larger than God.
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