According to the above photo, I’d been out drinking the night before. I don’t know what my first Spanish word was, but I do recall

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According to the above photo, I’d been out drinking the night before. I don’t know what my first Spanish word was, but I do recall
One Christmas long ago my Appalachian father, Ralph, took his revolver, climbed on the roof, shot once into the woods, came back in and said,
I haven’t written on this blog for over two weeks because I was finishing up a novel. Finishing up sounds like I was cleaning the
I was both a city and country mouse, living between my father’s deep-Appalachian world of sharecroppers, hunters, and, yes, moonshine, and the bustling metropolis of
I don’t remember Dad handing me my first rifle. I do remember killing my first rabbit. It was winter, I’d just turned nine, so, in