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								THE FAMILY GIFT
								
  
								by Greg Archer
								
  
								I have come to believe that the best gifts arrive unwrapped. No curly ribbons. No bows. No tags. 
								No warnings.  
								I received my 2003 Christmas present early this year. Actually, I first held it in my hands in the 
								fall of 2002. It was a floppy disk my Uncle John had sent to me from Chicago, where he lives and where 
								I was raised. There was a note: "Here it is Greg ... I wrote something about our family.  Take a look." 
								I did. I read a few paragraphs, felt some odd emotional stirring within and quickly stored the story on 
								my laptop, where it would be safe, and, more importantly as I would later discover, where it would be hidden.
								
  
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