Those of you that read this irregular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile of so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River. It was a redneck sort of place, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.
I never write about living people except with their express permission, so this installment is about two long dead denizens of Hackett.
Mr. and Mrs. Chandler were old, even by my grandmum’s standards when I first met them. They rented that little house that my grandmum owned just to the south of her place. They moved in around, I guess, 1965 or 1966, give or take a year. Things were much different then.