January 2010
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by Philip Schultz
A woman in my doctor’s office last week couldn’t stop talking about Niagara Falls, the difference between dog and deer ticks, how her oldest boy, killed in Iraq, would lie with her at night in the summer grass, singing Puccini. Her eyes looked at me but saw only the saffron swirls of the quivering heavens. Yesterday, Mr. Miller, our tidy neighbor, stopped under our...