SIXTY-FIVE YEARS or 23,725 days have passed since September 8, 1958. Why am I marking that day, that length of time? If it weren’t for an event I experienced that day, there were so many things I might’ve done with my life and there are so many things I ended up doing because of it. I remember very clearly upon waking that first morning in the hospital and lifting the blanket to look beneath it. Traumatic? Yes. Every day of those 23,725 days I am reminded of the result. PTSD? Maybe. I’ve never bothered others by talking about it, but on this anniversary will make this exception.
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A Pistol Packin' Mama
Story Under a Stone: Margaret Hickey, A Pistol Packin’ Mama By Lynn Bueling Near the west entrance of the Sheldon cemetery stands a tall s...
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