About the time Rachel Carson published SILENT SPRING in September 1962, I rode my bicycle behind the "fog truck" as it made its way through the streets of Possum Town. The gray, chemical mist that blew out from behind the machine in the bed of the pickup truck aimed to kill the mosquitoes that blanketed our humid, hot, Mississippi landscape. The fog smelled tart. It tasted bitter and burned my eyes as I weaved my three-speed Schwinn along the streets by the banks of the Tombigbee River.
BH
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