While visiting my sister Mary and her husband recently in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, I saw a beautiful cemetery and asked Mary to pull the car over so I could take a photo. It was f-r-e-e-z-i-n-g. I cannot remember ever having been so cold, but perhaps my years in India have dimmed my memory or my resilience. The wind tore in off the Atlantic. When I stepped out of the car, it (...)
Columnists
Hallowed Ground
In the Presence of the Dead
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