Why My Brother Won

Robert and I used to commiserate with each other about this: how the violence allowed the media to paint us all as extremists, how frustrating it was to see the harm that the Pensacola killings did to the movement. I remember one day last August, a few weeks after the Hill...
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In a Basin Clearly

Friday, 6:00 p.m., September 30th. Three deliveries and two hours of sleep in the past 36 hours.  I run to escape the weariness of a solo obstetric practice. Ascending out of town on a dirt road, the majesty of fall in Montana envelopes me. Ahead are groves of golden quaking...
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