It often baffled me how my grandmother spent her time. When my brother and I would visit as children, we made camp in the back room of her small house, scattering snacks and blankets in front of the television. Once we settled, she would retreat to the oldest chair in the house: a small wooden hand-me-down from her grandparents, a leftover piece of a Civil War-era dining room otherwise lost to time. She would position that chair so she could see…
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