by Freida Marie Crump
Greetin’s from the Ridge.
“Herb, what in God’s name are you doin’ up there?”
“Lookin’ for priceless works of art.”
“In the attic? Herb, there is nothin’ priceless in that attic and that includes when you’re up there.
Now get down here. You’re shakin’ the ceiling fixtures.”
“What’s this in the mildewed Sears sack?”
“It’s my mildewed wedding dress. Leave it alone. Herb, have you gone