No, seriously, what the hell happened to the Sodder children in 1945? Do we have to page David Grann again? In 1968, more than 20 years after the fire, Jennie went to get the mail and found an envelope addressed only to her. It was postmarked in Kentucky but had no return address. Inside was a photo of a man in his mid-20s. On its flip side a cryptic handwritten note read: “Louis Sodder. I love brother Frankie. Ilil Boys. A90132 or 35.” She and George couldn’t deny the resemblance to their Louis, who was 9 at the time of the fire. Beyond the obvious similarities—dark curly hair, [...]
Evidently fire burns very slowly in other people's homes, if these painstakingly curated lists are to be trusted.
If there were a fire in my house, I'd either die trying to carry a particular armchair down the stairs or die trying on clothes last minute. The idea of everything I own burning is actually kind of relieving.