I’m at my parent’s home in Central California, my brothers and I converging on our home because of the death of my father.
Those of you who’ve gotten The Call know the jarring mix of emotions that come with it, and right now we’re digging through the accumulated belongings of a man who — like many who lived through the Great Depression — threw little away.
It’s a little like an archeological excavation, with the artifacts getting older as you dig deeper, until finally — at the bottom of one box — we found the little cards he handed out to people at his high school graduation.
I’ll be back and blogging by the end of the week.
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