our long goodbye
Mar 26, 2019
2 minutes
By Edward Grinnan, Editor-in-Chief
when I was born: my mother’s father, Poppop Rossiter, who lived with my aunt Cass. My memories of him are vague, though even at a young age I knew there was something wrong with the old man. He would forget my name and who I belonged to. One benefit: He always gave us grandkids a quarter when we came to visit, and toward
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