I-I-I see my whole life flashing before my eyes. I see a weathered old
farmhouse with a white picket fence. I'm running through fields of
alfalfa with my collie, Rex. Stop it, Rex! I see my mother standing
on the back porch, in a worn but clean gingham gown, and I hear her
calling out to me, "Alvin! Don't forget your chores. The wood needs
a-cordin and the cows need a-milkin'. Alvin, Alvin..." Wait a minute!
My name's not Alvin! That's not my life. I'm not a hillbilly.
I grew up in the Bronx.
Ah, reminiscence! Enjoy!!!
