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I cannot watch war movies. In my mind’s eye, I interpose my father trudging through rice paddies in Vietnam, trudging through tall grass so thick, it slices the skin. I see his small frame – just a boy – whose uniform in later years fit his 13-year-old grandson. I seeContinue Reading

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In: Nonfiction, Scoundrels & Sinners, Way Back When
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In my last post of the Daugherty series, we left Byrd, his two sons, and Pryor Bunch rooted to the spot across from Daniel Britton Daugherty, Robert Lowe, and possibly a few others. If you recall, Robert Lowe reached into his jacket pocket, and I imagine that gesture put theContinue Reading