Mother possessed a sure-fire tip on how to see Miss Taylor. The plan was to pull our car in front of her rented frame house at sunset, the exact moment before dark when we could see inside the house, but she couldn’t see out. Timing was crucial because shades would be pulled and curtains drawn at dark. Sundown is short on the high plains of Marfa so we were quick. We parked across the street, and Mother got out of the car while we five children and two mothers crouched in the floorboards. I thought she was going to go…
Read moreVeterans Day: Voice of a Silenced Soldier
Millions of soldiers fight valiantly for their country, and millions die doing so. I pray for those who were the victims of so-called friendly fire. It’s not better or worse than any other war death, but it is its own special hell. The letter below, surrounded by paper poppies, is a letter my grandmother copied about her 20-year-old son’s death in World War II. Carefully crafted by the captain, the words do not mention how my uncle died. That was left to me to find out. The facts were never shared with my family, thus their mantra until the day they…
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