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If It Ain’t Baroque, Don’t Fix It

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“Daddy, I like this one … THIS one, daddy!” the girl insisted as she tugged on the spruce’s frozen boughs.  I glanced at the child and her loosely bound tree and thought it too short, too sparse on the bottom, and far too scraggily to ever make it onto the roof of my car.  I wouldn’t have taken the tree either.  Read more