From the August 2018 magazine.

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. 

I started drinking when I was 17. I had stolen some bottles of whiskey from a nightclub, and one night I drank a fifth and a half. I got so drunk my buddy had to walk me home. 

-- Pig Farmer George

Yakima, Washington

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