Baseball, Boobs, and Blondes
Okay folks, I apologize for my long departure. Seems I was beginning to ruffle a few family feathers- perhaps forcing a few to remember things they'd rather forget, but that's life and as we get older, every road is memory lane. They will have to deal with it. This is a book about work- what we give to it, and get from it. So let's continue. At fifteen one could work part-time and I wasted no time in locating my next source of income. Having always been a tomboy with a love of baseball, (could not and still can not understand why women must play softball!), an ad for a clerk with our hometown baseball team caught my eye. I landed this part-time job with the farm team (probably why I'm still a Cleveland Indians fan to this day). It was an easy job with good after school hours. My duties were to come in around 5 p.m., type up the team roster and news, and then use an ancient mimeograph to make about a hundred purplish...