For six months between 1966 and 1967, Wayne Johnston and his family lived in a wreck of a house across from his grandparents in Goulds, Newfoundland. At seven, Wayne was sickly and skinny, unable to keep food down, unable to sleep, plagued with a relentless cough that no doctor could diagnose. This is Wayne's tribute to a family and a community that were simultaneously fiercely protective of him and fed up with having to make allowances for him. He recalls a boyhood full of pain, yes, but also laughter, tenderness, and the kind of wit that is peculiar to Newfoundlanders.
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