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I Remember Dr. Pierce

by Kevin Alfred Strom

His footpath to the heights is almost invisible now, overgrown with timothy grass and mountain laurel, tenanted by bees heavy with nectar and pollen instead of by a man heavy with the future.

Morning after morning, for almost two decades, William Luther Pierce would take this path and ascend to the highest point on what he simply called “The Land.” At the summit, he would look out, all the way to the horizon, upon a creamy, ever-shifting ocean of fog from which the higher mountain peaks, especially his, jutted upward abruptly like widely-separated cliff-islands in some Hyperborea of dreams. Clarity was possible here in the West Virginia mountains; so different from Washington, DC, whence he . . .

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