When I was a kid, back when my dearest wish was to be tall enough to reach the rudder pedals, I hung around the old Navy hangar at Ottumwa, Iowa. Yep, the Navy had a facility deep in the waves of corn once upon the time of the Greatest Generation.

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5339 (Part One)

The thin white ridge of tissue stood in relief against the mass of wrinkles wrapped around his knuckles like a parchment map of the Old World. Grant sat quietly in the wicker rocker on his porch and stared at it. “Now HOW did I get that?” he whispered to himself.…

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