Somehow my mom convinced me I was needed at the family reunion, even though I might have known better. So I flew in from Denver and it was one of those glorious Midwestern Saturdays, with startling blue skies dotted by friendly white clouds. At the time, I was reading Jim Harrison’s sequel to Dalva, The Road Home, a fact that would later take on great significance, the kind only English majors can truly appreciate. …
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