Archives for: January 2009
An evocative image of an aural imprint
One moonless night when I was probably 7 or 8, barefoot, in cutoffs with 80 cents in my pocket, I was to meet my friends at the clubhouse. That was the restaurant attached to the country club on the other side of the lake. Inside the proshop was the machine that held the only candy bar for 20 miles in any direction and I would have money left over. more »


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