I write it down, it happens next
Most of the holidays with which I grew up meaningfully have to do with memory, so what I actually did for Juneteenth was leave a stone at the Royall House and Slave Quarters, this ghost-ground of New England I didn't know existed until just a few years ago, complicating and true.


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I had no idea until I read C. S. Manegold in 2019. Ten Hills Farm started where the Ten Hills neighborhood of Somerville is now, on the other side of the street from our previous apartment. All of a sudden, New England with Bibles and rum.
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apparently my former roommate talked to me about it, but I have no memory of that whatsoever. whee.