August 2018
Carpenter, welder, snake-handler, drunk
An old-timer writes of hard work and drinking and how sharing a donut can make his day
I came from a good home with loving parents. I was dyslexic, so in the fifth grade I was put in special ed to learn how to read and write. My teacher Janet would let me mow her lawn in exchange for tutoring. I was told I’d never graduate, but I worked hard and got my diploma anyway.
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