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It's delicate work, but weaving telephone wire together can make beautiful art.

Gored by bull, Richards reinvented himself

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When Charles (Chuck) Richards opened his eyes that bleak and gray November day in 1978, searing pain took over. What happened? Why was he in this glaring, blindingly white room? This wasn't his cow lot. And, where was his barn?


Gratefully, Chuck mentally welcomed back that black hole of blessed oblivion where there was no pain.

Then, almost four days later, the pain was back; the white sterile room was back. Chuck couldn't recall a single minute of why he was there.

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