There you intend to generate the most traffic
If you need to encrypt traffic from your computer or mobile device, you have many options. You could buy a commercial VPN solution, or you could sign up for a VPN service and pay a monthly fee. Or for less money, you could create your own VPN and gain the use of a Linux VPS anywhere in the world. This roll-your-own option is made possible through the use of the open source OpenVPN project, Linux, and a few open source client-side applications.
The VPS-based setup described here is designed to encrypt all the traffic from your laptop, desktop, or mobile phone to your VPN server, which then unencrypts that traffic and passes it on to its destination. This can be very useful if you're using the Internet from a coffee shop, a hotel, or a conference and you do not trust the network.
Putting this VPN together is generally the work of only a few minutes, and it requires minimal Linux command-line skills. The only tools you'll need are an SSH client and a VPS.
You can purchase a VPS on a monthly, quarterly, or yearly basis from any number of service providers. Some larger services offer VPS services in several different countries and allow you to choose where your server will run. In most cases, it's best to find a VPS that's located close to where you intend to generate the most traffic; the further away you are, the higher the tunnel latency will be, and the connection may be slower than you'd like. However, if you want your Internet traffic to appear to originate from Switzerland while you connect from New York or Los Angeles, you can do that as well.
The guys grew up in and around Deptford Township in the 1950s and '60s, in hamlets, neighborhoods, and housing developments with names like Almonesson, Blackwood Terrace, and Oak Valley. Some of them married their high school sweethearts; others joined the military; all learned trades or found jobs leading to careers that carried them into retirement. They're pushing 70 now. Many have great-grandkids. And once a month, since 2008, a small group of these men from the Deptford High Class of 1963 have been sharing breakfast - with a supersize side of memories - at the Seven Star Diner on Route 41.
"We're not a stellar group of doctors or Ph.D.s," says George Wise, 68, a Haddon Heights jeweler who helped organize the group. "Just working stiffs who have lived a good life." He invites me to take a seat as members of the gang arrive for their July gathering. They don't have a name, but they do enjoy the effortless camaraderie of grown-ups with a shared youth. "Oh no. Look who's here!" one guy shouts, and the room erupts in laughter. "You want to lead us all in prayer?" another guy quips. "He's totally off his meds!" someone yells.
Veterans of the Army, Navy, and Marines are in the house, and so are cops, construction workers, small businessmen, and factory hands. They are either Jersey natives or transplants who arrived from Philly with their parents as youngsters. "I grew up in Kensington, and at Stetson High you had to learn to either fight or run," says Bob Walz, 69, who worked at the former Sony plant in Pitman, where he lives. "At Deptford High, they were actually teaching us something." "It was farmland," says Joe Polidoro, 68, who moved to Oak Valley from South Philly as a teenager.
"There were no corners to hang on!" Although some of the men knew one another in elementary school, or from youth sports, Deptford High was where everybody met up. "Dan Louis was the first guy I met when I moved over here," Mike Hansen, 69, says of a tablemate. "He took me under his wing, and I've always been grateful for that." The gang offers some Deptford High stories that make the place sound like American Bandstand - with a bit of Animal House thrown in. "We tell the same old tales over and over," Wise says. "They get better every year." There's one called "the mad bomber of Blackwood Terrace."
Another details how Ed Fallon secretly placed a crawfish from a science lab into a ketchup container in the cafeteria. A stunt for which "I got a week's suspension," says Fallon, 67, of Harrison Township. "Deptford High was like American Graffiti," says Steve Moylan, 69, a retired Deptford Township police lieutenant. A Woodbury burger joint called the Steer-In "was where everyone hung out," he adds. When not hanging out at Sunset Beach in Almonesson, that is. "It had a bowling alley, a dance hall, a swim club," recalls Bob McKnight, 69, of Logan Township. "I worked there all through high school, for a dollar an hour." Nostalgia is often bittersweet, and sure enough, the conversations do touch on loss. Two of the men I chat with are widowers, and everyone seems to know a classmate who has passed away.
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