ONE WEEK after the Richland County coroner’s office lifted Ken from our backyard hammock, I drove into the Blue Ridge Mountains cradling a cardboard box of my husband between my knees. We drove into the hills above Greenville, South Carolina, to Fred W. Symmes Chapel, watercolor peaks in the distance. Ken had brought me here years earlier and tried to still his shaking hand as he presented me with a ring. Later we gave the chapel’s name to our daughter, Emily Symmes. Now I would leave his ashes here.
Then I would buy a juicer.
First I shopped late-night infomercials like they were selling religion, because I needed a covenant with a 30-day money-back guarantee. I was lost—until televangelist Jack LaLanne, the Godfather of Fitness, promised me I could juice my way…
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O, The Oprah (Digital) - 1 Issue, October 2020