I do not believe Patrick should get such praise for simply following me and my friends around and writing about what we did. Racid was actually a man named Jack. Retch was my friend Dave. When he wrote about every boy needs to dig a hole, Dave aka Retch and I had just finished digging a huge hole in the neighbors field to use as a pit trap. His square bowed canoe was a direct copy of the one Dave and I built and attempted to float down the Roaring Fork River, with the same results. His mountain car was a dead ringer for my old Jeep Wagoneer. The proof in the pudding was his spot on description of my grandmothers and my relationship. He told the reader the events happened in Idaho, when in real life it happened in a small valley in long ago Colorado. My mother read everything he wrote and would remark while laughing "remember when you and Dave did that exact same thing?" I got to meet him once and he was quite the gentleman. He will be missed.
