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By NAN PARATI

In 2005 I bought a building that has housed a series of Ashfield institutions since 1835 when it began life as Crafts Store. The place went through a few iterations and was even owned by the IGA supermarket chain in the early 20th century until 1937,...

By NAN PARATI

It was a typical day in the restaurant business, there in about 2015 — the kind where the regular chef is out sick, the dishwasher’s on vacation, and 200 customers who’ve heard you’ve got something good to offer have all decided to come try it out on...

By NAN PARATI

Nineteen years ago, some pre-cancerous cells running around my abdominal region demanded to be let out and thus, I went to the hospital for some invasive nether-region surgery. I was living in New Orleans then and was sent home post-operation to see...

By NAN PARATI

Back in about 2006, I was working at the Green River Festival, making the signs, when I heard a band play that I hadn’t heard of before — a couple of guys with good words and intertwining harmonies. I liked them a lot. Their accents sounded quite...

By NAN PARATI

When I arrived in Ashfield in the summer of 2005 for a two-week stint as signwriter for the Green River Festival, I had no grand ideas for a 180-degree turn in life; I was just happy to be out of the Louisiana heat, celebrating the coincidence where a...

By NAN PARATI

Lord y’all! Something happened in my brain recently, if not in my speech, that left me pondering my very identity. I was born and lived until my early 20s in North Carolina. My parents were intellectual beatniks of the day, and we four children were...

By NAN PARATI

As usual, Norm is right.There I was, ready to leave town for Christmas to spend time with family in North Carolina, just as I’ve always done. The traveling clothes were nestled in their suitcase and the gifts were loaded with care, when we got a good...