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19 It Wasn’t Folklore It wasn’t the way the old man living down the street said he could make it rain. And it wasn’t the widow who lived in the woods behind our house who went for a month without eating just to cure her dog of mange. It was simply the way the town moved, going from one small store to the next before it buried the dead, or left for good, or held a picnic. Folklore never came here. We had cats and the wind blew hardest under a full moon, and young Sam Little drank the water from Wilson’s Pond and lost his sight, and said he’d slept with his cousin’s ghost. We still got what we needed at Miller’s Variety Store and Ken’s Grocery. Nearly all of us went to church. And Mondays stayed the same for everyone except the two brothers who lived north of the park. ...

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