Back in the day, we gathered along the shadowy shores of the Chattahoochee River to witness the ultimate party in full force, as the Ramblin' Raft Race captivated the scene for a weekend. We drank, we smoked, we sang our songs. Some folks called it the "Woodstock of the South." We were all caught up in rock and roll, living for the moment.
Over the years, the focus shifted, bringing a whole new set of memories: a wedding waltz, the births of children, graduations, more wedding waltzes, the births of grandchildren...
Every now and then, a flash from the past will penetrate the crust of age, and I will linger for a while on the shadowy shores along the river of time.
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