There is the grief of anger; the futile grief of throwing things at a wall that isn’t there.
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Monthly Archives: June 2014
Pentecost
My parents didn’t drink much. Sweet wine with Sunday dinner; maybe a can of beer with pizza on Saturday night. There were some bottles of liquor that would come out if there were visitors on Christmas, and a bottle of whiskey that came out for a couple of male visitors: a family friend who was like a grandfather to us, and the monsignor from church.
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