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Judith Moore on her past

Washington State small town, Arkansas farm, the dad who read Babar, the gay uncle

A Memory of Summer We circled idly, swayed around the campfire. I had one hand around Don’s waist, up under his jacket, and the other on Arlene’s shoulder. Sparks flew up from the wet wood. ...

Chartreuse Evenings

An uncle goes green.

Jon, who was as old as Uncle Carl was then, which was 50-something, shook his head and looked sad. Jon had a long, narrow head and skin that always looked tanned because he used a sun lamp.


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