Driving and Biking in the Big City

Skeleton from the closet

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My recent trip to the casinos reminded me of my gambling blood and the family legend of Uncle Richie. This story was published in the old “Star” magazine of the Houston Chronicle in 1992 after he died.


I scrawled the directions on a piece of paper near the telephone, my husband — in the background — more incredulous all the time.

“You’re gonna turn at Aunt Bessie’s old place,” the voice on the line said.

“But I don’t know where she lives. You know, I haven’t been out there since I was just a kid.”

“You’ll know it by that blue Chevy parked in the yard,” he explained.

“You sure her car’ll be there?”

“It’s been there for at least 20 years.”

My brother was giving me directions to the cemetery in East Texas where my uncle was to be buried. My husband was giving me grief for even thinking about trying to find it. Half the drive was a two-lane highway; the other half was red-dirt roads only traveled by the people who lived down them. My last obvious landmark would be the Arcadia Four Corners…

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Written by commuterchroniclesdbh

February 8, 2014 at 8:14 am

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