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The wooden bowl . . .
I received this story, author unknown, from a friend several years ago. I found it recently in my saved e-mail and decided to share it with anyone whose path might cross my blog. The Wooden Bowl A...
View ArticleParched peanuts and skin crawling . . .
In the fall of my sixteenth year I lived with a farm family in the rural western central area of Alabama. Their farm was one of the Reconstruction era land parcels that were passed out after the end of...
View ArticleA letter to the living . . .
A letter to the living . . . When I look over my shoulder into the past, it’s as though I’m seeing things through a kaleidoscope, a tube of mirrors containing loose, colored objects such as beads or...
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