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By Christina Vo My parents bought into the idea of the American dream. The first home they owned was a bi-level with cedar shingles on a street called Big Ridge Road in a nameless middle-class neighborhood in Tennessee.  The realtor shuttled us around town. She was a hearty southern woman in her early forties with […]

Margaret

By Judith Ireland At five years old, in 1950, Margaret Calhoun was bald as an egg.  There was not one hair, not one bit of fuzz to interfere with the shine that made her head glow like the gold-capped dome on the capital building in Atlanta.  I wondered if her mother spit on her head in […]