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We stopped and went up to the ticket office; I stopped being so agreeable when I saw what a season ticket cost. In fact, I told him that I'd pass, thanks. Nearly a thousand dollars a ticket? Even if it was a bunch of tickets? Uncle Craig bought two.Then it was bank time and that was as eye opening as everything else I'd ever seen or done.Plain business utilitarian in the outer areas, the higher we moved, the finer the office, until finally we were in a small conference room, every bit as well appointed as we'd seen in the law offices. It seemed like lawyers flaunted their wealth, and bankers were embarrassed by it.And, unlike the lawyers, the bank people had no idea what Uncle Craig wanted. "My name is Craig Summers, I wish to a open an investment account," he'd said repeatedly. "Wells Fargo in Los Angeles was supposed to have notified you about this." Then they would ask him how much money the account would be for, then they would politely excuse themselves and seek guidance from. We met as children in grade school, becoming instant friends. He didn’t live that far away from my house, only about a half- mile, so staying in contact even through the summers was quite easy. His family had a large in-ground pool in the back yard, surrounded by a large concrete patio and walkway and a pool-house to the side. With our parents both at work all day we were alone until they got home. But because we were such good friends, like brother and sister, they didn’t mind that we spent our summers together swimming and hanging out with our friends in the neighborhood. As time went by and we became high school age, and with our new found freedom of having driver’s licenses, the element of being able to take long drives and go basically where ever we wanted brought our relationship to new heights. He would pick me up at my house in the newer white mini-van that his parents had given him since they had decided to buy new. We would stop to have a bite to eat, go to the local.
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