Across the wide cab of my 1970 Ford pickup, Bruce plucked his banjo. The rain had stopped. We had driven from Montana through Idaho and into Utah. We were only sixteen. It was 2 a.m. I had been driving since about 8 p.m. and was beat. The speedometer needle...
Were you taught this lie? “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!” Here’s another lie I heard and believed. “If you quit at one thing, you’ll be a quitter forever,” a girlfriend’s father said to me after I quit high school. He should have...
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