Before the preview, a word about Uncle Kenny
You would have loved my Uncle Kenny.
He lived on the middle floor of a triple-decker home on 740 East Third St. in South Boston, Mass. He was a small, bald Irishman who drank Narragansett beer and smoked at least a pack of unfiltered Winston cigarettes every day I saw him. He was a roofer who had two sons, three daughters and a wife (my mom's sister) who worked at the big Sears building down the street from Fenway Park. Uncle Kenny was very union, very Catholic, very decent and very profane. ...
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