"The Patton Chronicle"

Vol. I: No. 12

Editor: Tom Sullivan




Breakers: from the diary of Seaweed Sully (in the style of Mark Twain).

Albeit it's been noted that there're only two sure things in the world, death and taxes, my own list includes one more certainty: that the Patton team has more characters than the rest of the world put together. This was borne out, once again, at something called the Chatauqua meet. The trip began half way through a sun-filled day at a place called Brennan. I found myself navigating one of the team's cars, with two swimmers for company and a dozen raw hot dogs for lunch (not a strange combination in the aquatic world). It took us an hour and a half to get out of the parking lot, and then only after I had taken a thorough course in map-reading and the gear-shift lever had come off in my hand. It was a station to station trip (gas station to gas station), for I was driving caravan style with someone named Rick Skarbo, which was ample reason to stop often for directions. Not all the directions were friendly, either...for example there was the truck driver who told me where to go in no uncertain terms, and the "southern drawl" Ohioans who asked us about the Michigan "Mouseter" (monster) at Benton Harbor, which was then in the headlines. But all good things (bad things, too) come to an end, and so it was with our explorations. We arrived at the glorious "Grandview Hotel"-- where one has a "grand-view" of everyone else when standing outside looking in--and proceeded to rent sheets and other luxuries which did not come with the mattresses, which did not fit the beds, which collapsed at the slightest touch. I allowed that it was not bad, though, at fourteen cents a night, and settled into the master suite with a few


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