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In elementary school a good friend was hard core Italian. His parents owned the local vineyard and winery. I used to love getting invited to stay for dinner at his place, as even us kids were served wine with the meal.

The back of their vineyard was right across the street from our elementary school and he used to ride a tractor to the fence line, hop over and cross the street to school.
I guess we weren’t as hard core, but my great grandmother made us have some with holiday meals. I didn’t like it as a kid.
 

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