Random thought: it was clichÃ(c), even at the moment, that people of my generation would remember where they were when news came that Kurt Cobain had killed himself. Oddly enough, I do remember vividly. It was one of those warm, 75-degree sunny Knoxville spring days that I love, and walking down exhaust-filled Cumberland Avenue, I bumped into a classmate who told me the news. So today, reading that it’s the anniversary of his death, I don’t have any profound reflection, just a desire that spring would hurry up and come here and a wish that just once and a while we’d have those lovely 75-degree bright spring days up here.
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