It all started with a little girl in a cemetery.
July in the valley was as hot as ever. The ground and air were dry. Barbara Filbin, who was somewhere between eight and nine years old, walked through the rows of white, fading headstones at the Liberty Road Cemetery. As she collected trash and brushed fallen oak leaves from tombstones, she was captivated by each letter that protruded from the headstones.
You must login to view the full content on this page.
Or, use your linked account: