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odetta

A few days ago Stacie and I were recollecting on school life of so many days ago. We told stories about our old friend Odetta. Odetta was in Stacie's grade, but I claimed her as a friend too. After we talked at length about those days, I got off the phone determined to "look her up."

I typed in her first name and the state I'd heard she was in. I found an Odetta and called the number. Guess what? It was her! Can you believe the wonders of the World Wide Web?

We caught up in a short time about our lives over the past 20 years; husbands, kids, jobs. Then we told stories about way back when.

I've been known to whine about the abuse I suffered at my brother's hand. Many of you may think I exaggerate, but God is my witness, I do not. (But he's nice now, just so you know.)

Odetta wears a chipped tooth and my brother is responsible for it. Odetta, fortunately, is good spirited about it. She doesn't recall how Michael coerced her into this, but I remember his methods well; it always involved force. Michael made Stacie and Odetta hold their mouths open along the side of the kitchen table so he could play pool. He shot a ball against Odetta's mouth and chipped her front tooth.

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