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Memorial Day (May 28, 2007), a very personal one: I've opened an old bottle of Scotch whiskey in memory of my friend Arthur. I met Arthur, a retired senior officer, on the East Coast in early days of my immigration to US because our daughters were classmates. He became my first American friend and the warmth of our friendship was never matched in over twenty years of my immigrant life. We spent many hours together fishing along the Long Island Sound and chatting along a good whiskey. After our geographical separation, while my family moved across the continent, he sent me the one-gallon bottle of old Scotch whiskey, in special wrought iron casing, which he inherited in 1950's but which was in his parents possession even before the World War II. We were to open the bottle on his next visit. I didn’t perceive how unwell he was at the time when he arranged to visit our home in Colorado; he died just days before the flight. On this Memorial Day, here on the West Coast, I've opened the old bottle of Scotch whiskey in memory of my friend Arthur.
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