Fighting my tired eyes, I promised myself I’d read one more chapter of the book I’m trying to finish before going to bed a few nights ago. And then I came upon this passage: “In October 1969, I met Regina Ann Walsh, Genie, object of thirty-seven years of passion and devotion . . . hippie…
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Blink and it’s gone
At the crack of dawn, I was already driving home from the airport, wiping big mama tears from my cheeks. My eldest was headed back to Texas, his fireman gear packed efficiently per his norm. Military precision is his modus operandi. While he was getting ready to board a plane, I was heading back to…
