Hiding Place
Recently, on a trip to the Ozarks I found a copy of Jory Sherman’s book My Heart is in the Ozarks in the place where we stayed. It’s rather old, but Jory’s words never lose their poetic beauty. In one of the pieces in that book I read where the name Ozarks means “hiding place.” I can’t find a confirmation of that definition anywhere, but I like it anyway. When I go there, the outside world seems to disappear. There are…