I don’t recall anything about my parents’ wedding in Vegas, but then I barely remember any of my mother’s weddings, because most of them happened when I was really young. Or perhaps I didn’t go. What I do remember is that not that long after we moved back to Beeman with him, my silver-tongued father talked Mom into relocating two hundred miles north to an area of Fresno known as Little Armenia. We were to live with his family—more strangers that I’d never met and didn’t know existed until that moment. Mamaw put Gee and me on the train from LA to Fresno by ourselves.
Move to Fresno!
