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“That Bank Closed in the ’80s,” My Father Scoffed—The Account Was Very Much Still There

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life and cried.

The funeral was small—a few neighbors, a few old friends from the mill, people who actually knew Chester and cared about him. My father complained about the cheap casket. My mother left early for a hair appointment. Preston spent most of the service on his phone. Bridget brought her own hand sanitizer. I gave the eulogy because no one continue reading …

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