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Driving My Father

We’ll be stopping in Nevada, Missouri on our way back to Evansville. After spending some of Thursday touring metropolitan Latham, I thought it only made sense to visit the town where my mother grew up. I haven’t been to Latham since 1985, or Nevada since the early seventies when I helped Peter drive out to California to attend the University of the Pacific.

We’ll be flying home on Saturday.

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A couple days ago:

Diane: “I can’t believe Mack is really dead.”

Brian: “Spend ten hours in a van with him in a casket and you’ll believe it.”

4 Comments
el Kib
el Kib

Aah … The saga expands … Excellent! Great idea, though — it only adds about 25 miles to your return trip, but untold depth. And surely there’s some underappreciated Grohe around there somewheres …

rakkity
rakkity

The region in your vicinity is rich in both our familial histories.
You’re only a few decamiles from the town where my mother was born–Oklahoma City. And someplace in that area my great-great grandfather sold a failing farm and went west. A few years later the buyers struck oil there on that very farm and became Oklahoma’s first oil millionaires. (So close, so close to having had rich ancestors.)

Jen
Jen

Are you kidding?? Oh my God. That is an awful feeling. Who would think to dig a hole unless you were looking for China?

smiling Dan
smiling Dan

That title has *indie film* written all over it.

This whole saga does.

Anyone know an film student looking for a project?

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