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One day last week a young man came into the coffee shop and ordered a latte. Probably in his late twenties and obviously not from around here, he seemed relieved to have found a bookstore. He took his coffee and sat silently by the window. He was quiet, but not creepy. I felt comfortable having him camp out at the corner table. More ... Sneaking into the house so Gramma wouldn’t hear me, I headed towards the fridge, hoping to pour myself a glass of milk and sneak back outside before Gramma caught me. “Joyce Dean” she called, slurring the words together until it sounded like “Justine”. “Is that you? What are you doing?” she asked as she shuffled into the kitchen. More ... When historians in Southeast Texas unveiled a Texas State Historical Marker for Ivory Joe Hunter at a cemetery near Kirbyville, they stirred memories of one of America’s greatest musicians. More ... |
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