grokking in fullness

Carl is a guy named Carl. He is my neighbor. My earliest memory of Carl comes from selling things door to door for a school fundraiser. I went to an elderly lady's house, and she told me "That Carl Brougher kid already sold stuff to me."

"Damn him," I thought.

That was in the second grade. The year after that, I moved into my current house, and Carl approached me at school to inform me that he was my new neighbor. He and John Eilers (who is currently a fugitive from the law, Go John!) got me to go out to the railroad tracks with them to build "forts."

Until he graduated, Carl was an Army Boy. He wore camoflagued clothing, had military surplus items, and his lifelong job was going to be in the army. After that, he turned country.

Carl is largely responsible for getting me interested in firearms, paramilitary things, paintball, and camping.

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According to a packet of instant oatmeal I have thumbtacked onto my wall, there is a two hundred thousand dollar treasure buried somewhere in Hardin County, IL.

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