In 1967, Vic persuaded me to lie in a sleeping bag on the cold ground in March. We held each other while waves of green, yellow, and pink tinted the sky—a divine aurora borealis lightshow. It was
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In September 1968, Vic and I rented a barely winterized cottage on Cayuga Lake. The next spring, we splurged on a canoe. As we explored the lake, Vic paddled and steered from the stern, while I practiced
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