Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 7 · column 3 of 6 · from the scan, no model involved
Ihe old man looks up and smiles bigtime, laughing that sweet merry laugh anyone who ever knew him will never forget.
“Aubrey Keyser,” he says. “Pleased to meet you. I was born here.”
A “weekender” in Rappahannock County, I had long ago made peace with the fact that there are people and a lore here that would remain beyond reach. Relationships that go back generations, long-remembered and ' long-forgotten histories, the feuds and the reunions, too much Rush River water under the bridge for a newcomer to ever quite sense or fully appreciate. That is, until I had the good fortune to meet Mr. Keyser that summer day when he dropped by what is now my farm, the old Keyser family homeplace in Gid Brown Hollow.
The notice of Mr. Keyser’s death which ran in the Rappahannock v News the week of June 8 reduced his rich life down to the bare facts as obituaries must: Aubrey Hubert Keyser lived ninety-one years. As I got to know him better, we would time-travel together across those years in long conversations on the back porch, sometimes with the help of a tape recorder, all the time on the wings of his memories.
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