One Scrap of Paper from Oak Creek Hospital Rewrote Thirty-Four Years of What My Family Remembered
I drove directly to the county library on Main Street.
The archive room of the Oak Creek library smelled of damp wool coats and old newsprint.
Arlene Vance sat at the microfiche reader next to me, settling her reading glasses on top of her gray hair before leaning toward the green-lit screen.
“Four hundred dollars is a steep research fee for a high school guidance counselor,” Arlene said quietly, sliding a glass film plate into the tray.
“Are you sure you want to spend your savings on thirty-four-year-old newspapers?”
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