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

the main street. I stopped and looked at the old oak trees, their bare branches reaching up into the gray Ohio sky.

“Will you come by for tea next week, Albert?” I asked.

“I would like that very much, Martha,” he said. “Perhaps Tuesday, after my afternoon appointments.”

“Tuesday is fine,” I said. “I will have the blue cups ready.”

The house was perfectly continue reading …