October 2017 Bar Bulletin
Mr. Rupp writes in January 1990.
When I was a boy I knew who Mr. Frank Preston was, but I never really knew him until years later. After all, he was 18 years older than I — a veritable chasm of time to young people. I remember that when he and Isabel were married they
built their house right across the street from the senior Prestons. I still wonder why they did that. Libby and I always got on very well with our two sets of parents, but it would never have occurred to us, or to them,...