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Monday, May 31, 2010

Do You Think I Could Fit In There When I Die?


FarmWife rather liked the horse-drawn hearse in Saturday's parade. Wanting, as she does, to be cremated, she shall never have any use of it. Perhaps in another eighty-odd years, when I, Fenway Bartholomule, go to the great meadow in the sky, we can squeeze me in the pretty glass box for one last farewell tour of Wickersham?

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