red clay ponderings

Hmmm… what shall I ponder on today?

Setting The Record Straight

Because the doubt has come up again, I’m blogging a facebook post I wrote earlier this year. DLG MothersDay

July 9, 2015

Setting the record straight….I haven’t had plastic surgery.

In the past two days, a few unconnected people have alerted me to individuals on their Facebook pages claiming this before and after photo I posted was either:
1. photoshopped
2. The result of “plastic” surgery

Neither are correct. How much does cosmetic surgery cost? $5,000? $10,000? $20,000? I don’t have money like that floating around, but if I did, I would spend it on my daughter’s wedding, car repairs, kitchen cabinets. A vacation would be nice .

Cosmetic surgery didn’t even make it to my Bucket List.

The Rodan+Fields products I use and sell, work. If you use as directed, they work very well.

*Details of the products I used are in this article:


You’ve heard it before: “With Wi-Fi and a phone, you can successfully work from home”.  

It’s true. With Rodan+Fields, you can operate a successful business from your kitchen table. 

Will you have to buy a load of inventory for your Rodan+Fields Business?


Will you become RF wealthy just by becoming a consultant? 


Will customers and new consultants flock to you as soon as you announce your Consultantship on Facebook?


Your success will require some effort on your part. Nothing that you can’t do, I promise. If I can do it, anyone can. 

Is it easy?

 Yes. As long as you are willing to talk to your family and friends and sometimes strangers…and post on Social Media about RF, it’s easy. But before you talk with your friends and post on Facebook, you and I will need to spend a little time on your training. If you’re willing to listen and watch, in person or online, on your phone from the comfort of your home or at your local coffee shop…if you allow me the time…30 minutes a day or an hour per week…you decide how much time you want to invest…If you are willing to be trained, you can earn a substantial income with Rodan+Fields. 

We are growing and expanding. 

Our business model is non-complicated and our products work. If our 100% Money Back guarantee isn’t proof of RF results, my skin is:

 Last week it was announced that Unblemish, our line for septic acne,  is the #1 Premium Brand acne treatment in the U.S.  

Numbers don’t lie:

We are in the United States and Canada. Australia is next. With more countries being added in the future. You can build a business in Canada and a team in Australia, from your home in Waleska, Georgia…and never take off your bedroom slippers. 

 The world is our stage, Rodan+Fields stands center, in the spotlight. Won’t you join me there?

#workfromhome #unitedstates #canada #australia 

I Wanna See You Be Brave

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This morning, my childhood friend Becky posted a Sara Bareilles song on Facebook: Brave. And it triggered a memory of Becky’s mother.

Many years ago, after becoming engaged, I visited the mom of my friends Mike, Bobby and Becky Bruce-West. By that time, I had known Mrs. Bruce many years; since I was ten or eleven years old. She was like a second mom to me, and she really was a second mom to my cousin, Pam Bruce, who had become her daughter-in-law. As much as I loved Mrs. Bruce, I had only been in sporadic contact with her over the last several years. College took me out of town, then working and living in the Atlanta area kept me away. Pam and Mike were married and living in other parts of the world, Becky was married and living in Florida. The reasons for me to visit the Bruce home had grown up and moved on.

But once I was betrothed, I had a strong need to see her. I called and asked if I could come visit for an afternoon. She laughed. “Of course you can come see me! Anytime!”.

We caught up and laughed about old times. Then, in her sweet, aging voice, she asked: “Well Danita Clark, what will your new name be?”

“Able”, I said.

“Able”, she paused, and her blue eyes lit up like sparklers. “I can’t think of a more perfect name for you. Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been one of the most able people I’ve ever known. Brave, too.”

Hearing her words, I was overjoyed, because Mrs. Bruce wasn’t one to spout empty accolades. I also felt like an impostor. She had no way of knowing, but already, the little girl Mrs. B had known as able and brave, had become a young woman stripped of bravery.

When did that happen? Where did I leave the bravery? I’m not sure, but I think I know. I believe I left little pieces of bravery and able-ness on the ground around me, under my feet. Anytime I felt inadequate, I gave away bravery. No one took it from me. I handed it over, let it slip from my hands and hit the red clay, where it sank deep and became buried.

Unwittingly, as my friend Teresa Pressley Hayes recently mentioned, I had set myself up to marry a man who didn’t value me. After I married him, I became less able, less brave. For twenty-four years, I had no bravery.
All that changed six years ago, come this July.

Glory to God, I survived.
And with a lot of help from Him, many good friends, some vagabond travels, family, and a new Rodan+Fields business, I have been ‘able’ to recover my bravery.

The insecurity, uncertainty and no-bravery, is now nothing more than an oily, greasy mark in the middle of the road. It sort of looks like an old, empty can of Crisco.

Let Me Know If You Need Anything

We say it to our friends, family and mere acquaintances when they’re going through the valley times of life. With Facebook, I read those words everyday. Just this morning, two different people I know posted of deaths in their immediate family. Their Timelines were filled, one after the other, with friends offering condolences followed by: “Let me know if you need anything”. 

I resisted the urge to reply to each consoling comment….They need something. But they’re not going to ask for your help.  
Recently, my cousin’s mom died, unexpectedly. A few weeks later, her husband lost his battle with cancer…(but he went out fighting like a champion). In the middle of these tragic life events, Denise was also planning and preparing for some of life’s most celebrated moments: Her daughter’s wedding and her son’s graduation from high school; his registration for freshman year of college. 

She needed things. She needed something. I know she did. But she never asked. 

I’m guilty of saying to her, “Let me know if you need anything.” She said she would, but she didn’t. And I understand. I wouldn’t have asked or told either. It’s difficult for me to ask for help. I think it must be for most of us. It isn’t a matter of not being able to admit we need help; no, we simply don’t want to inconvenience others. 

Not long ago, someone I know became a widower. He and his wife attended a large church, they had been members of the church for several years. When she died I went to the funeral home, expecting a large crowd from their church. But the church crowd was missing. One couple from their church had visited, they brought a cake or a pie. Except for the pastor, no one from their church attended the funeral. A few weeks later, the widower, elderly and now living alone, announced in church he would have surgery the upcoming week. No one brought him meals. Yet many, during his wife’s death and before his surgery, had said, “Let me know if you need anything”. 

We feel better when we speak words of comfort to the hurting; we beseech the grieving to call us in their time of need. Who are we? A loved one is in the middle of a raging storm and we ask them to call us? 

May I suggest we change our approach? People appreciate our sympathetic comments and good intentions. But really, what good are intentions if not followed by actions? If someone you know is going through a difficult time, just know they need your help, and do something to ease their stress. 

Accidents, illness, tragedy and death don’t come calling when we have everything in order, shiny and spiffed up. They come in the middle of the night, when your laundry basket is full and your grass needs mowing; death knocks when your cupboards and fridge are empty, and your floors need to be swept, when clothes need to picked up from the cleaners; when children need to be fed. 

Moving forward, when life happens to my friends and family, I’m doing what I’ve watched my friends Rich and Angie Alexandersen and TC Chassay Zimmerman and an anonymous family member do numerous times. Show up. I have never heard them say, “Let me know if you need anything”.  Instead, they understand that you will need something, and then they show up. Whether anyone asked or not. 

**I’m very fortunate, I have several family and friends that Show Up in my life. I’ve learned so much about friendship, family, love and the real Church from them. **

Let’s all Show Up today. 


A Blemished Life Redefined

DLG MothersDay

I first heard about Rodan + Fields as I was going through a divorce.

It was in 2010 when my friend Teresa Hayes began making a few posts on Facebook regarding her new business. Teresa and I were childhood friends but had not seen each other since graduating from high school more than 30 years prior. We had recently reconnected on Facebook and I had taken notice of her posts. I was intrigued about Rodan+Fields, mainly because if I knew anything about Teresa, it was that she would not align herself with a company/business that wasn’t top notch, first class. Still, what she told me seemed too good to be true. Too much unlike any other direct sales company I had ever heard of:

  • No Parties
  • No Inventory to purchase.
  • No Mandatory meetings.
  • No Deliveries
  • Money Back Guarantee on all Products

We talked about the business opportunity and she said she believed it was just what I needed to get me on my feet and back into the land of the living. She saw my possibilities, but I didn’t. I had been in a 24 year marriage; a physically, emotionally and financially abusive relationship. To put it mildly, my self-esteem was lower than the sludge in the bottom of a barrel of worms. It was bad. Add to that the burden of realizing I was about to be technically homeless; I didn’t know how I was going to eat or where I was going to sleep, I couldn’t fathom taking on a new business. I didn’t believe I could learn anything new…At my age?  

Teresa invited me to a Rodan + Fields event she was attending. I told her I couldn’t go. The thought of being in a room of glamorous women and well-put-together men was more than I could handle. It was an overwhelming and frightening prospect.

So for a year or so, I lived the life of a vagabond; I slept on the sofas of friends and my ex-sister-in-law, spent a month with my son in Chicago, stayed in a friend’s home on the Gulf Coast for a few months while I finished writing a book, moved back to Georgia where I had a semi-permanent residence in a friend’s basement. And all the while, I was watching Teresa. I saw her skin improve, I heard the difference in her voice and in her posts. I could tell success with RF had become a reality for her. Still, I stayed in the shadows, afraid to take the first step.

Money concerns were my ever present companion. From time to time, RF would enter my mind and I would touch base with Teresa. But I was broken financially, and didn’t think I could afford even the $45 Business Kit. Spending $45 was the difference in putting fuel in my vehicle or staying home for a month. Fast forward to October 2013: I was driving up Interstate 75 and I felt…felt deep in my spirit… God say to me, “I’ve given you a way up, out of the pit, but you keep looking down”. I knew He was referring to Rodan + Fields. From that moment on, there was no more thinking about it… that evening I contacted Teresa and told her I would become a consultant January 2014…. first I had to save up $45 for a kit.

I wish I could describe to you the elation I felt upon making that verbal commitment. I knew I was walking into a life changing arena.

I became a consultant January 2014 and it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. It’s difficult to fathom that for years I let $45 and a cobbled up mindset keep me from bettering my life. I believed that I was unequipped to take on anything new: I can’t do that.not just as a 24 year era of my life is ending. But as we know, hindsight is 20/20. In retrospect, it’s easy to see, the ending of one life phase is the perfect time to begin something new. 

If someone has mentioned Rodan+Fields to you, give them a chance to tell you more. Whether you need more income, a new group of supportive people in your life, extra vacation money or a retirement plan. RF won’t take up much of your time, but it sure does free up time for more life affirming opportunities.

If no one else has approached you about Rodan+Fields, and if this sounds the least bit encouraging or interesting to you, please contact me. I won’t waste your time, I promise.

Sometimes we don’t know we need something until we have it.


Danita Clark Able, Rodan+Fields Executive Consultant

Cell: 770-881-1007

ScarFace Undone

This past October 2014, I had surgery on my face. The surgery was to remove skin cancer from beneath the surface of my face.

September, the month of impending change, is when I learned I had cancer. Before surgery, I had a couple of weeks to think about the alien living below my eyes, beneath my skin. I hated the idea of something foreign living there. Knowing it was caused by too many unprotected days in the sun, I vowed to never again go outside without wearing a good quality sunscreen. I’ve honored the vow.

Below is a photo of the day I learned that yellow fireball in the sky had not been my friend.


This is what the spot looked like… a pimple that wouldn’t go away. I didn’t think it was anything to be concerned about. Until it lingered and wouldn’t clear up.

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I had both dreaded and looked forward to surgery. I was not excited about having my faced opened up, but I was anxious to get the show on the road. October, one of my favorite months, ushered in Surgery Day; my good friend Angie Alexandersen drove me to Marietta for the procedure. I went into surgery believing all cancer would be removed and knowing I would have a scar afterwards, I just didn’t know how wide, long or deep the scar would be. But my attitude was: Ok…you’ve had fifty plus years of a relatively unmarred face. So you may have a scar. Deal with it. You’ve fought tougher battles than a blemished face.”

But I also knew I would help the scar heal physically with the products I “peddle” (that’s how one of my son’s friends described my business skill-set). :)

I am a consultant with Rodan+Fields, the skincare company created by Drs. Katie Rodan and Kathy Fields. During the past year, I had seen my client’s wrinkles decrease, age spots disappear, rosacea, eczema and acne cleared up… leaving behind a flawless complexion. And while RF doesn’t make claims of healing scars, I knew I would give our products a chance before using the expensive creams my doctor suggested.

The doctors and nurses had instructed me to wait a few days before removing the surgical bandages. In the meantime, I tried to set my mind for whatever lay beneath the white netting covering one side of my face. Expect nothing, just pull the bandages back and accept what’s there.

Alone and holding my breath, I carefully removed the gauze and tape. One look and my stomach knotted up slightly and I sort of wanted to cry; but then I talked myself back: It could be worse. It wasn’t in the bone. Others have dealt with so much more. Think of what Denise is going through. If this is the worst of it for you, consider yourself fortunate.


I developed my Rodan+Fields Game Plan. And when the stitches were removed a week or so later, I began applying RF Night Renewing Serum and RF Overnight Restorative Cream directly to the raw, invaded area.

RF Overnight Cream

A couple of weeks after sutures were removed, the scar area began to harden and raise up in a long rigid line down my cheek and alongside my nose. It reminded me of the Rocky Mountains, except it was an angry red mountain range rather than one of snow-capped beauty. My physician told me it was from the internal stitches healing and pulling the tissue and muscle from different directions. “The roots of the cancer were spread in different angles, you were stitched accordingly. We can talk about procedures to correct it after you’re completely healed”.

Searching the internet for restorative possibilities, I came across a surgeon using a ‘needlling’ process to break down scar tissue. Watching the video, I had an “aha moment”: “Hmmmm, RF has the AMP MD Roller. I wonder if that would work as well as what the doctor would use? The roller has surgical grade needles on it. I’ll give it a try”.
Six weeks after surgery, when most of the tenderness was gone, I began “needling” the scar with the AMP MD Roller. Immediately after “rolling”, I applied the serum and the PM Cream. I did this every night before going to bed; in the mornings, I reapplied the Overnight Cream. I still “roll, needle” the area every evening. Since then, I’ve added the full Redefine Regimen to my bedtime routine.
RF Serum Roller

I began to see a rapid improvement in the look of the scar once I added the RF AMP MD Roller to my scar-healing game plan. I’m still elated with the results I’ve received with Rodan+Fields products. Many times I had been impressed with the improvement in my my friend’s skin after using RF, but I was shocked with my outcome. And then one day the thought floated through my head…“Why are you shocked? Didn’t you believe you were worthy of the best? You tell your clients they deserve improved skin. So do you.”

I’ll never stop using Rodan+Fields products. Each and every thing I sell has a 100%, empty bottle, 60 day, money back guarantee. If I can help you, message me or one of your Rodan+Fields friends….we’ll talk about your own game plan. Whether it’s for wrinkles, age or hormone spots, acne, skin irritations…we have something to help you. You have nothing to lose.

Your skin will be with you until the end…treat it well.

I no longer wear foundation cosmetics, so each photo posted here is naked skin, no editing.

Photo in the bottom right corner of the collage was taken in January 2015.


March 2015

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April 11, 2015


Changing Skin, Changing Lives

Video: Scarface Undone

Danita Clark Able
Rodan+Fields Executive Consultant

Who Remembers?


When I was growing up in Canton, Georgia, one of the most exiting days of the year was Opening Day. Not the  Braves Opening Day at Atlanta Fulton County Stadium…better..,opening day of the DQ. The line of teens in Cherokee Warrior T-shirts, parents holding toddlers, old couples holding hands, businessmen in ties, doctors and lawyers in suits, was so long, it would wrap around the side of the building and snake up into the Rutledge’s shaded yard.  Standing in that line, no one grumbled and complained. We caught up with our friends and neighbors…we learned who had broken up with whom “and right before prom! My goodness what a jerk!” 

Our town was small, our county not congested (we had one high school in all of Cherokee County). It didn’t take much to make us happy. We didn’t have a McDonald’s or a Waffle House, we had a Burger Chief and a Happy Kitchen (and they served us well). But the DQ, owned by the Rutledge family, was a summer treat. They only served dairy products and Slushies…. No burgers, hotdogs or Cokes. And it was only open from late spring to early fall. 

The Dairy Queen is still there, in the same location, but it is no longer owned by the Rutledge family  and it’s no longer the only DQ in town. And for reasons I don’t understand, the ice cream and shakes from the old DQ on Highway 5, taste better than they do at new one. The treats served up at the original taste like summer. And home. 

The Bird Fighter


This morning, with a cup of Russian Tea in hand, I called my mom. It’s something I do daily. Most days, we chatter about the day before us, “what are you doing today?” Some mornings, the conversation is a lullaby of memories. Other times, she voices her concerns about the health and well-being of those she loves. Many mornings, she mentions her brothers and sisters….she misses them. The oldest of six, she has one surviving sibling.

Occasionally, our conversation takes a sharp turn. Unintentionally, I say something that whips up her Crawford temper, and she has to “bring me down a notch or two“. It’s ok.

Every now and then, regardless of conversation topic, I hear her with the ears of someone not from the south. Although I am from the south, I hear her with foreign ears and wonder what someone from New York or California would think of her Alabama vernacular. On those mornings I smile and silently shake my head. I learned a long time ago the pointlessness in correcting her. (When we visited the United Kingdom, an agent behind the ticket booth in a London train station asked her: “Where bouts in the states are ya from, M’Lady? Alabama or Tennessee?”

This morning, this is what I heard on the other end of the line:

Mama: Hello
Me: Are you busy?
Mama: Just fightin’ these old birds.
Me: (silent chuckle) What birds?
Mama: Aw, you know. Them ol’ birds that builds nests where they’re not supposed to. (The birds know this Rule of Helen? I wonder…)
Me: (She likes birds, usually, so now I’m curious). What kind of bird is it?
Mama: You know. Them old Mud Birds (Barn Swallows). I put the plant from Jake’s funeral out on the porch yesterday, and they’ve already started buildin’ a nest in it. They orta (ought to) know better than that. That’s a live plant, not no autoficial (artificial) one! Your daddy’s already knocked a nest out of the barn’s porch rafters, now they’re tryin’ to build one on this porch. They’ll mess all over the place! Nobody wants to clean up birds%$t all the time! Well, I need to go so I can get back out here to them birds. Before they build another nest.

So…if you need a good Mud Bird buster….you know who to call.

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night….oh, wait.

When I was a kid, I looked forward to spending a week or two out of the summer with my aunt and uncle. My family lived in what I considered the “Boonies” of Cherokee County; but my aunt and uncle had moved from Cherokee to the big city of Cartersville. They lived on Douglas Street. My visit to Cartersville had all the makings of a great summer. Everything I needed was within the traveling distance my bare feet could take me.  Their house was a stone’s throw from Main Street; three blocks from the outdoor Olympic sized pool at Cartersville High School and just a skip and a jump from the Iced-Slurpees of a convenience store on Tennessee Street. An old, wood-framed store, was located a street or two behind their house.

 One afternoon, early into my visit, my aunt sent me to the old store to pick up something she needed, probably a Coke. Once the screened-doors of the place squeaked to a close and my eyes adjusted to the dimness inside the ancient structure and my nostrils grew accustomed to the musty odor of old things, I found it was a place I liked. The older man who owned the store kept.a good selection of penny candy on hand and Mae had told me I could buy some.

I enjoyed the independence and responsibility my aunt entrusted to me. I relished the idea of doing such a grown-up thing as walking to the store alone. But, it was the getting there that gave me trouble.

To get to the store, I had to walk run past an ivy covered, two-story house on the corner of Douglas and Carter Streets. At the corner, I had to pass in front of the house, then turn left and journey toward the rear of the property. Something about the place sent cold quakes through me. No matter how many times I went to the store, I could never shake the chilling feeling I got when I was near the house. I found myself avoiding the sidewalk in front of the house by crossing to the other side of Douglas Street, turning left on the far side of Carter Street and then zig-zagging back when I was a safe distance from the “spooky’ house. Holding my breath the whole time. Even now, more than four decades later, I can drive past the place and remember the coldness I felt there, on hot summer days. 

 This past Valentine’s Day, someone on Facebook posted this question: “Anyone know where the house is in Cartersville that is on the Travel Channel tonight?”

I scrolled down and saw that someone had posted an article with a photo of the house. My spooky house.

Turns out, in the 1930’s,  the area of the sidewalk in front of the house had been the scene of a murder. Which led to a kidnapping and a hanging. The murdered man was the Chief of Police of Cartersville….he had been seeing to the arrest of young black man. aged twenty-two years. While the young man was incarcerated, the Chief would send for the beautiful, nineteen-year old wife of the prisoner. And so it went.

One night, the young man escaped and he and his brother drove to the home of the Chief, presumably to bring his wife home. The Chief came outside, not willing to peacefully let the girl go, an argument ensued, and somehow the Chief’s gun wound up in the hands of the escaped prisoner.

The gun was fired, the Chief died on Douglas Street.

The young man was arrested and jailed. A couple of nights later, he was kidnapped from jail and lynched in downtown Cartersville.

The young bride, fearing the friends and family of the Chief would kill her as well, (because they couldn’t let anyone know what he had been doing with the nineteen year old, black wife of his prisoner), fled town and was never heard from again.

(This is the condensed version of the story, if you prefer to read more of the article ….written by local attorney Tony Smith who quotes local historian Ed Bostick author of “Lynchings in Bartow County” for the Etowah Valley Historical Society. He quotes and names many other local residents.  You can read the full account of the Cartersville Police Chief Joe Ben Jenkins murder by scrolling down to “1930” at this link: ) Thank you Phil Bridges for the link.

No matter how you feel about ghosts, haints, haunts, ghouls and lingering spirits….I know I felt something cold and creepy on that street, three of four decades after the tragic events which unfolded there.           

 Thank you for reading,    Danita



Bully in the School Yard

Canton Elem

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Did you know the old Canton Elementary on Academy Street and the Jones’ Textile Offices in downtown Canton, Georgia are on the National Register of Historic Places as being in the historic section of Canton? And did you know Dr. Frank Petruzielo, of superintendent fame, plans to demolish the school building and or the Jones Canton Textile building? He does. And very soon.

Because he needs a new office, you know. And a better place to park his car.

Canton and Cherokee County, do we have to allow another piece of our history to fall victim to the wrecking ball? I really don’t believe we do…or should. But….if some backbones, some green paper and a few history lovers don’t come together, within the next few months, we’re going to lose another piece of our history. Or as Ms. Joplin sang, we’ll lose Another Piece of My (our) Heart(s).

If we don’t act, Dr. Frank P will have his way with a building we love. He’ll replace it with another modern eyesore. Canton has too many of those already.

I’ve been told Dr. P has withdrawn all but bare-bones maintenance of the school building…allowing decline. To anyone watching from afar, it would appear his plan is for Canton Elementary to fall into such a state of disrepair, it will be non-salvageable. I’m sure by now the building is in terrible shape, it’s over 100 years old, after all. And when the county “remodeled” it in the mid 1970s, they didn’t bother with sustaining the integrity of the building or the original interior character. They replaced the windows, installed a drop ceiling, covered the hardwoods with cheap carpet and called it remodeled. What an insult to that beautiful, genteel Southern Lady.

I no longer live in Canton, but it will always be my hometown. My parents are still there, my cousins and their children and a spattering of aunts and uncles are still around town. They’ll be there until their last breath. Your family is probably very similar. Dr. P, most likely, will not. He’ll rip down a 100-year-old building, and for a couple of years, he’ll settle himself into a big comfy chair within that building…and then he’ll move on. Canton will be a faded memory to Dr. P. But we’ll remember him. Every time we drive downtown and see what is no longer there, we’ll remember. And we’ll say to our grandchildren what we’ve had to say to our children about other significant buildings around town: “There used to be the best old school building standing right over there. You should have seen the architecture, Neoclassical Style. Nothing else like it around here….”

We have given up so much of this cotton mill town. We gave things up without a fight. We let the hotel go, the magnificent Sequoyah Library where my love of reading began as a five-year old, the train depot (what other town destroys its depot?), the elegant homes on Marietta Street (replaced by a couple of architecturally unattractive brick boxes). We’ve lost enough.

The Historical Society doesn’t want to lose these buildings either. Below is a link to an article on their page. Surely we can come together and help them save a bit of history for the future citizens of Cherokee County.

Thank you,
Danita Clark Able

Canton Elem3

If you want to be a part of preserving the character of Downtown Canton. Please sign this petition created by the Cherokee County Historical Society.



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