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For myself, and perhaps for others in the family, this was our fantasy, too -- that when Jeb got it together he could support himself as an itinerant craftsman.

  I don't mean that he couldn't have done it, but by itself his craft couldn't get him sober and keep him that way. On the phone with my mom, two weeks before he died, almost the last thing he said to her was, "I just want to get back to my art."
pickup truck, heading on

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