Six Pairs of Thick Gray Socks Saved My White House on Elm Street

dusk.

“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked as I got in.

“Elm Street,” I said.

He nodded, shifting the car into gear as the tires rolled over the gravel path.

“Cold evening,” he said, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

“It is,” I said. “But my feet are warm.”

He did not say anything else, and I was glad for the quiet ride back into town.continue reading …