I Opened a .mil Email the Night My Family Buried Me Alive

family, which was basically a credential by itself. My father, Warren Mitchell, built houses, then subdivisions, then a whole decent-size company out of dust and temper and men he could shout into silence. He liked things that stacked straight. Lumber. Books on shelves. Sons.

My mother, Darlene, liked performance. The good casserole dish. The right continue reading …