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Excerpt: Son Of A Gun: A Memoir

Excerpt: Son Of A Gun: A Memoir

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Published by OnPointRadio
Chapter 1

Excerpted from SON OF A GUN by Justin St. Germain. Copyright © 2013 by Justin St. Germain. Excerpted by permission of Random House, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Chapter 1

Excerpted from SON OF A GUN by Justin St. Germain. Copyright © 2013 by Justin St. Germain. Excerpted by permission of Random House, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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Published by: OnPointRadio on Aug 19, 2013
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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09/08/2013

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3
 
Stge_9781400068623_3p_all_r1.indd 3 4/8/13 11:21 AM
oon after we learned that our mother was dead,
m
y
 brother and
I
went to
a
 b
a
.
 
W
e
d
 
already worked
the
 phones.
J
osh
 
hadcalled our grandparents,
who
d
 been
divorced for forty years
 but both still livedin Philadelphia.
Grandpop
said
he
d
 
 book 
the
rst
ight he could, but
air 
tr 
a
v
el
wassnarled from the attacks nine days
earlier 
.
 
Grandma
w
as
afraid of 
ying, so
she
stayed inher rented room in
suburb
an
Philly
,
 
wreckedand helpless.
I
called my
dad
s
 
house in
 N
e
w
Hampshire, but he
w
asn
t
 
home.Eventually he called back.
I
told him
she
was dead and
a
long pause ensued, one in
a
litan
y
of silences between my father and me,stretching across the
years since
he
d
 
left and
 
4
 
Stge_9781400068623_3p_all_r1.indd 3 4/8/13 11:21 AM
the distance between us, thousands
of 
miles,most of America. Finally he said
she
was
a
good person,
that
he
d
 
always cared for 
her 
.
 
He asked
if 
I
wanted him to
y
 
to Arizona.
I
said he
didn
t
 
have to and hung
up.
 
I
emailed my professors and
told them whathad happened,
that
I
w
ouldn
t
 
 be back in
class
for 
a
while.
I
called the office
of 
 
 
4
 
Stge_9781400068623_3p_all_r1.indd 4 4/8/13 11:21 AM
the college ne
w
s
 p
aper 
 
where
I
worked andtold my boss.
J
osh
called in sick to
his
 bartending job. Then we
sat
on the couch
with our roommate,
J
oe,
an
old friend from
T
ombstone
 
w
e
d known since gradeschool. It
was
a
Thursda
y
,
 
and we had
nothing to do. Somebody suggested theFrench Quarter 
,
 
a
Cajun joint nearby thathad spicy gumbo and potent hurri- canes. Itseemed like
a
good idea:
I
d
 
heard stories
of grief in
which the stricken
couldn
t
 
eat, but
I
was
hungry
,
 
and
I
needed
a
drink. So
tha
t
s
 
where we spent our 
rst night without her 
.
 
When we walked in,
President Bush wason
TV,
about to
give
a
speech. The jukebox was turned
off 
,
as it
had been sincethe attacks, because now everybody wanted tohear the
ne
w
s.
J
oe
 
went to the bar to talk tosome of the regulars.
J
osh
 
and
I
took 
a
 boothin the
corner 
.
 
Orion,
the bartender and
a
friend
of ours, came over and told
us
he was
sorry
,
 
and to have
what- ever we wanted onthe house.
I
wondered
if 
J
oe
 
had just
told
him or 
if 
he
d
 
already heard.
I
didn
t
 
know
yet
how quickly or 
how
far 
the
ne
w
s
 
wouldtravel, that within
a
few hours
w
e
w
ouldn
t
 
need to tell anyone about our 
mother 
,
 
 because
e
v
ery-
one would
already
kno
w
.
 
I
ipped through the menu but
couldn
t
 

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