by J. Caleb Thomas For as long as I can remember, Mother rang a silver bell every morning at six. It was small enough to fit in her palm but loud enough to wake the dead. Even when she was bedridden and pale with fever, she kept it on the…
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A Day in Honduras
by M. A. Bookout We were flying N.O.E. (Nap of the Earth) low and fast. The UH-1H Huey, Helicopter quickly rose, just missing a mountain top. I had my feet hanging out and swore I could drag them across the peak as we sped past. We dipped suddenly into a valley,…