Beverly Lott
“It’s taken,” I said to the young man who quickly approached the co-ed bathroom door I was guarding. It was a sultry 85 degrees that clear day in July, and I was sweating. I was waiting on my niece who was inside the restroom, changing into her dry clothes.
My sister Pam and her children have always enjoyed watching the fireworks display held at Foster Lake above Sweet Home. I, along with my…