Of Flying Pigs and Pixie Dust

When I was five, I believed I could fly. I watched “Peter Pan” and I believed. Truly. After all,  I’d saved TinkerBell any number of times with my heroic clapping. “Tink”was real … to me, anyway. I gathered pixie dust out of my pockets (AKA “pocket lint”) and sprinkled it on to my fair-haired head. I climbed atop my dad’s … Read More

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