Last Word: Lost Ones

Most of us went to college together, and we were an odd crew. James was a tae-kwon-do instructor who ran his own martial-arts school in town. Kelly told me she was a witch in both the religious and supernatural sense. Ron one night confessed to me that he was a vampire, but in more of a religious sense than a supernatural one.

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Brick by Brick

In October, I kneeled in the garden and pulled weeds with my mom. She told me that when she met my dad, she had assumed that he knew what he was doing when it came to building the house and the kiln. “I knew nothing, and I thought knowing nothing was a hindrance,” she explained. “I didn’t know that knowing nothing was how you became somebody who knew something and just moved forward.”

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The Front Nine

Sometimes, the holes scattered between the crescendos and lulls of fairways are just a final destination for a golfer’s ball. But a golf hole can be so much more than that, at least according to these nine Arkansas golfers—coaches, players and even a golf-course architect, some who still live in the state that catalyzed their careers and some who’ve taken their game elsewhere

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