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John Fayhee John Fayhee
Kill the Curmidgeon: The end of the wave
My new stepfather had just moved us from the northern Adirondacks to his home turf along the fetid fringes of the Chesapeake Bay, a decided geo-cultural step down in my then-12-year-old opinion. I mean, who knew there were such things as saltwater mosquitos, poison ivy, ticks, chiggers, stifling heat, rebel flags and drawls so thick that an otherwise ordinary single-syllable word could be stretched enough to fill an entire novel?