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Showing posts from June, 2008

I am Gary Hutson's daughter.

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He could try to deny it, but the proof is there each time I look in the mirror. It's in the deep-set eyes, the high cheekbones, the long face that runs to hollow-cheeked when I am tired. It's all there. It is in my hands and feet- the fingers and toes so long and straight, the instep high. Many who know me say I am my mother all over again, or even "Little Madge," but that is mannerisms. No, I may act like Mudder, and hold my head like she and Gram do, but much of the raw material is Dad.

Dad gave me his love of history, poetry, and Poe. In fact, he wanted to name me Lenore, a fight I am eternally grateful he lost! It is a lovely name, but I am not sure I could handle the knowledge that I was named after "the queenliest dead that ever died so young". (I never said the man was always practical!)

We both tend to favor American History, though he prefers the Civil War Era and I lean more toward The Revolution. One summer, our travel plans included a day i…