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On September 30, 1994, I climbed into a loaded Suburban which took me somewhere I should have been all my life, on a walk in the North Maine Woods. Famously, Henry David Thoreau arrived with his feathery quill in 1846 to ultimately pen "The Maine Woods". Without having read the literary classic, I wound up running across his tracks to the point where, one day I woke up and began to read his book.
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