Foremost, Alma MacDougall, then Anne E. Gendler, and the cover illustrator, Marianne Jankowski. Next, the friend I have known longest, Paul Seydor, and Dr. James T. Link, who saved my right eye in 2020, just in time for me to write this book. I met the unstoppable Craig Moore several hundred times as a runner then as a walker. Two masked men, Josh Jeter and Paul McCullough, accosted me on the beach then came up to encourage me and to eat skillet bread. We had two pets, a peacock (named for the gorgeous Captain Mad Jack Percival), whom we had to abandon to roam forever over his three-state territory, and Scalini, the stray who stayed and ruled for eighteen years. “Too many to mention,” people say. James Hime. Robert Sandberg. Robbie Head. The Habers. I mention hundreds in this book whom I never met but sometimes came to love, the way I came to hear the guns at King’s Mountain. As always, Heddy-Ann Richter was stalwart.
About the A
No comments:
Post a Comment