Hard to believe, but it has been a full year since since Art Roth Jr. passed. I love and miss you, Dad.

A Place for My Stuff

Dad talking business; me playing with my stuffed giraffe. Dad talking business; me playing with my stuffed giraffe. Some time in the summer of 1977, when I was a six-year-old happily growing up in LaGrange, Georgia, my mom took me to a fish and chips place for lunch. She ordered me a basket of hush puppies and explained that my dad’s job was going to be transferred to the headquarters of Milliken & Co., and that he would be moving to Spartanburg, South Carolina.

“Well,” I said after some thought. “I sure am going to miss him!”

My mother then went on to explain that she and I would also be moving with him to Spartanburg, and thestrange reality of an impending uprooting, away from all my friends and everything else I hadever known, slowly setinto my six-year-old mind. There would be other moves, all of them between South Carolina and Georgia, in my growing-up years as my father’s…

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