My mother’s mother died almost exactly 25 years ago, in November 1998. Last week, my own mama and I sat and laughed, remembering my extraordinary grandmother. “She picked a good time to leave,” I suggested. The family – and the nation – were prospering in the fall of 1998. The stock market was booming, peace seemed to be breaking out all over, and our nation’s greatest obsession was whether the president had lied about an affair.
A Note on the Innocent Dead
A Note on the Innocent Dead
A Note on the Innocent Dead
My mother’s mother died almost exactly 25 years ago, in November 1998. Last week, my own mama and I sat and laughed, remembering my extraordinary grandmother. “She picked a good time to leave,” I suggested. The family – and the nation – were prospering in the fall of 1998. The stock market was booming, peace seemed to be breaking out all over, and our nation’s greatest obsession was whether the president had lied about an affair.