Yose

‘ve imagined walking down modeled South Morgan Street, waving to drunk George in the guard shack, to Betty who is having her smoke at the tower door. I pass the cross bucks standing over the grade crossing, past Jacob’s on the right (the smell of fuel hanging heavy in the Appalachian air) and the boarded-up passenger depot on the left. Another hundred yards down this road will bring me to the main drag of Tuscarora, quaint in its 1962 time frame, not a corporate logo to be seen. Yeah, this is the place I imagined and modeled. So Jack’s reworked […]