What was laughable or weepable was the realization that lots of other towns around the country go to some lengths to claim a connection to Custer when we seem embarrassed to embrace the links we have.

Children gathered at the kiddie table and adults enjoyed conversation and, of course, everyone enjoyed the turkey dinner.

[…] no composer or dramatic poet has ever pretended to be able to perform all the parts he writes for the singers, actors and players who are his executants.

The Bat—they called him the Bat.[…]. He'd never been in stir, the bulls had never mugged him, he didn't run with a mob, he played a lone hand, and fenced his stuff so that even the fence couldn't swear he knew his face.