As I put a ladder up against the front-porch roof one day last month, my neighbor shouted from across the street, “Painting the house?” “Nope,” I said. “Painting the gutters.” She was perplexed, ...
About this time of year in 1974, I was spending my first days of summer freedom atop a ladder with sweat and paint dripping down my arms. Little did I know then how well my dad's make-work job to keep ...
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