This time last year… [2]


I was on an 18-hour Greyhound odyssey that left Washington D.C. in the early hours of the morning. I had just finished talking to a gentleman named Mel, the relation of a Congressman who felt that Barack Obama’s election — still uncertain at the time — would end up setting back the civil rights movement by four decades.

Three transfers, one crying baby, one drunk Texan, several other quirky characters and three states later, I was in Columbus, Ohio. That was the day I tried to appreciate West Virginia.


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