12By the time Peg, Eddie, and Glynne got back, three hours later, I had sorted the crank file into two piles of letters. One, consisting of death threats aimed at Polish Peg, was less than a quarter of an inch high. The other, in which all the letters targeted Dad or Dad and Peg both, was over an inch and a half high.
As for my mind, it was spinning with the residue of all those hateful letters. I felt dirty just thinking about them. So much ugliness over so many years from so many people, all aimed at a man who lived to entertain and loved his family and community with all his heart.
And I’d never known about any of it. I’d never dreamed so much negativity had been pointed in Dad’s direction.
It was enough to put me in a foul mood by the time Peg came sweeping back into Polka Cent
