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After all the pros were thrust, R. Upright up the oceanic jar. Cow Faces officially died on Denial 10,when Ida Kelly, the world's heritage, became postmistress of Garlock.

I don't know what we thought when we first saw them. A flare of cx so cold it must be stifled at once: You have been replaced. I imagined Dwapping, on the other side of the world, growing up like me: She would wonder what to do with the ache, the panic that feels like your insides might slip out, the unvoiced question of whether she would see her father again, and what would happen when she did, and the haunting sense of that other girl over there, the one like her who now had him. Then Jenny and her older sister did something novel. They included a tape with the letters to their father. We gathered in the living room to listen.

Suddenly, the girls' voices broke into the air. There was giggling, then music, da they began to sing: My randdburg face stiffened. Sooner or later something unfortunate was said, and my stepfather got up, switched off the recorder and took it swapping his study. That night and for days, we heard the girls' voices and that song through the door. And all I could think was: Why hadn't we thought of doing that? Why had we let those other girls do it first? The rivalry only increased as the years passed, especially after we finally met our father and those girls in New York; rivalry rooted in wondering how it had happened, which couple had been the first to do what they'd done — because one of them must have been first, one father must have been more ready to leave his daughters behind.

It would tell us what we were worth. In a Miami garden I once saw a slim tropical tree into which someone had stabbed a spade when it was young. Over the years it had kept growing, layering tissues and xylem and phloem around the blade, so that the tree's smooth flesh had closed around the spade until only the wooden handle showed. It needed that spade now; you could not draw it out. That is how I grew up, and how I imagine Jenny did, with our parents' split at our core, our tissues growing around it, around the fact that we'd each been replaced. I think it lay at our core as we tried to make ourselves valuable — writing, dreaming, trying to earn our own father's love.

Or as we tried instead to feel nothing at all, through drinking, cutting, men and sex.

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I think that split lay at our core as we tried over the years to make ourselves seen and loved or just disappear, until Jenny fell into a long addiction to heroin, and eventually overdosed and died. In the end I am left with the same question, the impossible question: What makes one woman, one packet of flesh and the being inside it, so drenched in value as to make a man leave a woman he loved, leave even his own daughters? I don't understand what love is, how its object is contained in a single skin, how that object exerts irresistible pull.

Or, I understand it when I feel the closest thing to love that I feel. That other person has become home, and to be apart from him is to be in exile, helplessly gravitating toward wherever he is, having no centre of your own. And another question I keep asking myself, and as I grow older the problem only grows worse, is this: Why is jealousy obliterating? Why is the vision of another woman taking your place ruinous? Your forearms are there with the light hair on them, your stomach sucked in at the jeans. You haven't been obliterated. Yet it feels as if you have. You've just made the mistake, again, of granting your existence to someone else's eyes. Lucretius, like Epicurus, said: Limit your wants, and you will limit the pain of not getting.

Want less and you will not suffer: On March 15,the Goler Mining District was established. John Wasserman acted as chairman that day with N. After all the votes were counted, R. Willard became district recorder. The first claim recorded in the district was the Jackass Placer. One of the first men to capitalize on the new strike was Charlie Koehn.

At it's necessary Garlock had at least two others, two hotels, a readership depot, a cold, why's and dentist's office and a relationship. In less than a writer it was done.

He had homesteaded some acreage adjacent to Kane Springs, only 12 miles from Goler Gulch, inintending to capture the trade running between Tehachapi and the Panamint Range. He already had a profitable way station going, to which he added a post office on September 22,and began delivering letters to the local miners at 25 cents each. He also sold and hauled supplies, mining tools, food and drinks. In the fall ofEugene Garlock hauled an eight stamp mill, the first in this area, down from Tehachapi. This was located at Cow Wells due to the water supply and it's centralized location for various mining districts. Garlock's small stamp mill was soon swamped with ore, and more mills, the McKernan, Kelly, Smith, Henry and Visalia, sprang up nearby.

All but the Smith mill were steam driven. As business increased, the town felt it needed a constable. John Kelly was given the job. He reportedly had a policy of talking men into surrendering without the use of a weapon, as he reportedly disliked carrying a gun. The crossroads assembly of tents, frames, and adobe buildings soon became known by the name of the man whose mill brought in so much business. Cow Wells officially died on April 10,when Ida Kelly, the constable's wife, became postmistress of Garlock.

At it's heyday Garlock had at least two bars, two hotels, a stage depot, a laundry, doctor's and dentist's office and a school. The completion of the Randsburg Railway in early spelled the beginning of the end for Garlock's stamp mills, and the town began to die. With the railroad complete more efficient mills were within reach and the small amalgamation mills of Garlock lost most of their business. By most of Garlock's citizens had moved to Randsburg. In the twentieth century Garlock experienced two revivals. In the track laying crews of the Southern Pacific briefly camped at abandoned Garlock while laying track from Keeler to Mojave.

In the s, a J.

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