I had never been allergic to poison ivy in my childhood. I didn’t realize that could change.

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Of course I wasn’t allergic to it. I knew that and was certain about it, as certain about it as a twenty-six year old man can be about anything related to himself. If you had me do one of those “party mixer” games where I have to write down three interesting things about me, the fact that I wasn’t allergic to poison ivy would have been one of the three on the list. The other two would have been the fact that I play tuba and that in college at Nebraska I memorized the first ninety decimal places of the numerical value of pi.
Before I proceed, I’ll answer a couple questions just to get that out of the way. I don’t want you distracted through the remainder of the story. Why did I memorize ninety decimal places of pi? I don’t know – I thought it would be fun or unique. I think maybe I thought it would be a good way to meet girls. “Hi, I’ve memorized pi to ninety places and I drive a red Dodge Dart. Wanna dance?” No, it didn’t work. It did get some smiles though.
The tendency for the female gender to not be impressed with my capacity for retaining ninety digits of an irrational number meant that I had to rely on my charm, my looks, and my tuba. Well … okay, I had to rely on my tuba. It was a nice tuba (I play the same tuba today), fortunately, and eventually I met and serenaded the woman who would end up marrying me. Actually, after I proposed to her, I was playing background music on my tuba while she mulled it over. After the seventh piece (a Bach fugue), she begged me to stop. I threatened to keep playing unless she said yes. She quickly said yes.
My unwavering belief in my ability to withstand a poison ivy onslaught had its foundation back in my childhood days, playing in the backyard, and camping. I had been exposed to it numerous times. I even remembered grabbing a handful once, just to prove to my friends that it had no effect on me. And I had been correct.
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