Chapter 2: The phone rang then, and my idiotic fantasies were shattered, which was a good thing. I looked at my candlestick phone, a reproduction of a 1930’s telephone, and listened to the antique ring. I am a living anachronism, wishing that I lived in 1930’s La Crosse- and, in most ways, I am- kind of. I drive an antique car; while not a 1930’s vehicle, a 1950’s Packard is still in my wheelhouse. And, I dress in retro clothing for the most part, and try to ignore most of modern music and culture, since it all seems like a huge step downwards. I answered the phone, but only after 2 rings. I like to keep them waiting. It was Alexander. “Thanks for finally answering, Kemosabi,” he said. “My faithful Indian companion!” I answered. “I expected a smoke signal, but I guess this will have to do.” “Wampum low,” he said, “firewood dear, but Obama phone free!” Alexander was quite the kidder, since he deplored any government program, and e...