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    A Boston story in 50 words

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    It’s 1969. I’m cross-legged on the floor of The Aardvark in Kenmore Square. B.B. King is sitting on a stool wailing away on his famous guitar, Lucille. Set over, he asks who wants to play Lucille. Suddenly she’s in my hands. I play the only three chords I know.

    — Robert E. Brown, North Reading