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My Second Semester Of College At Florida Atlantic University

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May came around at long last. So did the end of my second semester of college at Florida Atlantic University. Not only did I survive my freshman year, I thrived, passing eight of my nine joint courses with A’s and getting A-minus on the other one. Just like “Neon” Leon shocked the departed Muhammad Ali in 1978, I defied my own expectations and those of a few among my closest friends and family. Did I soon spend the next few months indulging in summer merriment at the beach, getting my tan on while thirteen-year-old boys fawned over pictures of Selena Gomez? Nope. I took summer classes to keep my mind sharp and knock out a few of the requirements towards a degree which I’d earn three years later. One such class = a six-week crash course in public speaking. Everything went well until I got an assignment to create, practice, and deliver a three-to-five-minute speech involving someone who stood out. The possibilities overwhelmed me until I recalled someone with an outstanding life, hit him up on my cell, and talked to him in person one hot Saturday afternoon. Grandpa explained how he and Jay stayed in Nice for two weeks, joined a beach club in the Mediterranean for eleven dollars each, and enjoyed themselves. Yes, the same Nice where eighty-four people got killed in a terror attack on July 14, 2016. They were low on cash when they went to a casino in Monaco, right next to Nice. They took their cash and bet it on the roulette wheel on the black. While scratching my right elbow

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