In Brownsville, Oregon there is a big, old cemetery. You can go to the little historical museum and look up the plots. The ‘who’s who’ of the Brownsville dead and gone. Deep under the roots of those trees are four generations of my blood…or actually my bones.
Here’s a little song about who I am. The Willamette River pours rapidly through our valley here. It’s been flowing for a very long time.
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