Letters to My Granddaughter, No. 77
[June 7, 2024] After drinking from the water jug, we drove to a broken “Oklahoma Jack,” sitting silently on an old farmer’s barren land about an hour west of Abilene. In Texas, it was mid-summer and early, just as the sun peeked over the horizon. Already, the air was so dry the moisture was sucked straight out of… Read More »