One of my seven brothers, a virtuoso athlete, had a habit of straddling onto a sturdy magnolia branch outside his second-story bedroom window, a branch that led to the trunk, and then to a near-perfect drop into the darkness after curfew. My parents never tired of recounting the expletives they heard one night when my brother realized the branch was gone. It has never grown back.-Leslie Alexander
Tuesday, October 29, 2019
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