There’s a piece of land on the north side of Jackson that looks pretty much any other open lot. It sits at the edge of town just beyond an abandoned golf course and right behind VFW Post 1848. You could walk on that open lot and never have any idea that underneath your feet lay broken pool tiles, aqua blue concrete steps, maybe a piece of an old diving board—remnants of bright summer days, now covered in dirt and twelve feet below the surface.
Read MoreMy grandfather used to have a desk in a spare bedroom in the house he shared with my grandmother. I would stay with them some nights if my parents were out of town or if I just wanted a change of scenery for an evening, and that’s the room where I would stay. If I had any homework, I would sit at the desk and pretend to do it. I was usually a little distracted, though.
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