The Lawlessness of Roy Moore
Both sides of my family hail from Alabama: my mother’s people from the coal mining country of Walker County in the north and the tiny burg of Union Springs farther south; my dad’s, from a speck of a cotton-mill town just east of Montgomery.
It has been ages since I lived in the state, but I still have scads of relatives scattered across it. I harbor tribal loyalty in the Auburn-Alabama football rivalry (War Eagle!), as well as a weakness for green-bean funeral casserole. And I invariably feel a pang when some not-so-great aspect of my ancestral homeland winds up as a cautionary tale on the front pages of the national media. (Case look at how opioids have become the currency of choice in the town where my grandma grew up.)
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