I just watched “The Diary of Anne Frank” on PBS. I found myself in a bit of a teary puddle afterwards, and a memory came to me.
When I was a very little girl, our next door neighbor lived only a driveway’s width away from our house. A whole family lived there, but the person I remember most was named Joanne. I didn’t know her well, but she played a role in our home.
There’s alot wrong with America these days, but almost all our beloved country’s ills lie in one place. The house. The American house is simply too big. Hear me out.
I’ve been in alot of houses in my day. Houses were my thing for years during my “I wanna be an architect” phase. I dragged my poor father to every open house… Continue
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