A sidebar on Slate caught my eye today, an interesting respite from political news. Then an embedded link. And its reference to a crime.
A click brought up the story: In December, a bunch of Vermont teens decided a farmhouse once owned by American poet Robert Frost, now part of a National Historical Monument, would be the perfect place for their drinking party, and proceded accordingly. I leave the details to New York Times columnist Dan Barry or to your imagination.
Personally, I found the story incredibly difficult to read, not because Barry didn’t write well, but because he did. Perhaps you must be of a certain age to feel the unfathomable sadness in this story. Or a wordsmith of one kind or another. Or a fan of poetry, or of New England, or nature, or history. Beauty or life. Decency. Respect. Whatever it takes, these kids didn’t have it.
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