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He retired and returned to Greece where his poor relatives ate him alive monetarily, so that then his only possibility for the future was by the affordance of a once a day single lottery ticket - someday a winner. The last I heard of him he was in the hospital.
Out and about in Athens I would try to be as inconspicuous as possible with an outfit of a modest tourist, but not army. Maybe that is why they let me grow my hair so long. Didn't think they thought about things like that. There were people out there who didn't like American military. You didn't want to be military. Think they took me for German or Danish. I was fairly blonde in those days. British were too dandy.
It was hot in the summer. People would sleep in their yards. Restaurants would take their roofs off. The little city parks had tables and chairs and one could sit under a tree outside and a waiter would come from across the street and I would order a portokáli Greek orange juice drink, in the night evening air out of doors and watch the world go by. It was great. Sometimes I would ride in to Omonia Square with Youkey in his white sports car with the top down.
Then he would pick me up around ten PM. Or I would take the deuce and half and get off at a Souvlaki stand meaning barbecued pork wrapped with pita bread, and tram to Omonia Square. The Americans liked to call it cat meat, which explains why I didn't hang around with them much.
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