only after punishment had been heaped upon Mohammad. My personal best Ali fight was the Rumble in the Jungle when unbeaten, powerful, and overwhelmingly favored George Foreman, an Olympic gold medal winner and reigning world heavyweight champion, at the time in his absolute prime, was knocked reeling across the ring, clutching at the air for nonexistent support before crashing slow-motion-style to the canvass in the eighth. He didn't get up.
General Eisenhower, the war's conquering hero, gray and steady, wise and strong, was our president. Crews constructed new and awe inspiring expressways across the nation, while families bought cars and appliances they had seen advertised on television, back then still regarded as an innovative and amazing new technology.
Lucy & Ricky mugged, Jackie Gleason and his Honeymooners clowned, and Elvis made his appearance wailing and gyrating to Hound Dog while he wooed hysterical teen girls down Lonely Street to the Heartbreak Hotel. A brand-new stick shift Chevy or Ford V-8 fresh from the showroom floor could be yours for under two thousand dollars. Every family seemed to have a new one, many were adding a second. They could be fueled with premium hi-test ethyl for twenty-five cents a gallon. Hand dipped ice cream was a nickel for a one scoop cone, and dime if you wanted two. And I was a twelve year old, seventh grade student at the local Webster Catholic elementary school, Holy Redeemer, unsuspecting that I was about to have the fight of my life.