I was born on The Day the Music Died plus twenty-one years. The plane that crashed was NOT called The American Pie.
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I was 2 years and almost 5 months old. I didn't know what a plane was, but I remember looking forward to sitting on the steps of 1603 Wharton street in the mornings and afternoons to sit in the sun and watch the people go in and out of the butcher shop across the street.
I don't remember the name of it, but it was still there in 2002... my old house doesn't look the same, though.
Posted by: Jerome Gaskins | November 01, 2005 at 12:26 PM