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The rules of my raising were loose and mostly non-existent. But I always had an inner compass of sorts that kept me well behaved and mindful of how I should act.
In the midst of uncertainty, Tink and I were enormously blessed. Last December, we were traveling I-20 West, toward our treasured Alluvian in Greenwood, Miss., when, somewhere near Birmingham, a text from his manager binged on Tink’s phone.