Jillian Smith

Managing Editor Jillian Smith

Thanksgivings at my grandparents’ house aren’t just some of my favorite memories; they are a benchmark of the ghost of Thanksgiving future.

Every year, we’d drive from our small hobby farm in Northeast Texas and into the big city of Dallas via the “big bridges” (interstates 635/30 interchange) from I-30 west up 635 and into the Walnut Hill area filled with modest brick homes and sun-bleached paved streets with black, oil-based crack filler spreading spider-like for the length of them. 

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