It was a Saturday — July 3. It was hot and muggy in Omaha, Nebraska.
We got up at the usual time that morning, 7:45. About 8:30, we started to open every window, turn on every fan.
We started to draw the blinds to block the hot sun come afternoon. It was supposed to be almost 90.
While we were doing that, we turned on the radio. My brother’s Winthrop. We call him Stinky. The boss was Dad. My name’s Favog.
GREAT. Mom left the thing on KFAB, not KOWH. Must have been listening to her soap operas. I always preferred Sandy Jackson.
Eight forty-five. What was "Big Mike" selling now? He was talking to the salad dressing guy -- Louis Albert. It seemed strangely interesting.
We sat down to listen. . . .