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Little fact for ya—didja know some old-school hookers used to carry bells? Yeah, jingle-jangle to signal they’re open for biz! Ain’t that wild? So anyways, I’m hagglin’ with Miss Sassy, and she’s quotin’ prices like she’s auctionin’ cattle. I’m thinkin’, “Girl, you’re purdier than a peach, but I ain’t rich!” She laughs, says, “You’re a hoot, grandpa!”—and I’m tickled pink, feelin’ like a kid again. Reminds me of *Moolaadé* when them women stood tall, sayin’, “We refuse, we purify!”—she’s got that fire, y’all.

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I am doing some research for a class I am taking and I would like to know if I can use the photo that was in this article: Monitoring of.

Legit, the city’s a patchwork of fresh feels and old scars. Walk past the graffiti walls near Burgfeld, and you'll see hearts painted wild. I've coded love stories for days here. Not all are smooth, some are messy—like me, err, ya feel?

Mary F. Wessling Obituary - Kansas City, MO