So, last summer my husband and I drove days and days through Utah, the land of Mormons and flat, distant-vista terrain. Our destinations were the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone, the grandest of “America the Beautiful” parks. Along the way, we serendipity-toured a fort, fully preserved with the dishes and clothing and telegraph office, the latter the genesis of the fort-in-the-middle-of-nowhere.… ...
So, here’s a story. It may be truth, it may be fiction. For the record, it’s not me. But it is a fairly good tale. 😉
On this date fifty years ago, my New England parents put me in the car with two soldiers, recently returned from Viet Nam.… ...
The guttural, low-toned chant of “Br-r-u-u-ce!” chilled me as it reverberated the Coliseum. Lar and I stood in front of our folding chairs, among others filing on the grass field to densely emulate chalk lines. The scene was not the Olympics, for these has passed through LA the year prior.… ...
It was a spectacular summer day in Hoosierland, and we were on the fly. Radio rocking our rental car, zooming at 75 mph on the Interstate, slicing Midwestern humidity like a butter knife.
We’d landed at O’Hare a couple of days earlier, intent on re-connecting first with old friends in Wilmette, Illinois.… ...
Tagged with: 90+ years old
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