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by Howard Hull I went back home last week. It was time. I but now, it strikes me as being a very odd name for a town. had waited over a year. She died in April, and it is now August. He has stayed there by himself all of that time. I didn't really want to go, but I wanted to see him, to see how he was. It's a miserable place much of the time, hot and humid in the summer, and frigid in the winter. The drive up the long stretch of Interstate between Knoxville and Bristol was routine. Even in summer, the drive through McDowell County is not a pleasant one anymore. Although the hills and valleys are green, they are covered with rows of neglected nondescript coal company houses with an occasional mobile home surrounded by assorted dead automobiles. The few streams that run Since my CB radio was broken, I rode the back door of an "eighteen wheeler" with the words HAGERSTOWN FURNITURE printed on the sides. He never got below sixtyfive. typical foothills country with bald knobs the low hills except for a few grazing sheep, and a house or two look
Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press
Published: Jan 8, 1986
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