Maxine Scates pieces plunging a man and his grandsons broken into the creek below. In Leaburg, you can still see the WPA murals on the wall of the dam, poverty harnessed, the river tamed but the salmon already going in the years when Uncle Carl and my father learned to drive Cat, huge blades upending roots and cutting roads, learned to do what seemed would never come undone.
Crab Orchard Review
â—† 217