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Every year around this time, we anxiously await the arrival of a package from my dad’s friend Fred. What we crave is a loaf of the most wonderful fruitcake, packed with dates, raisins, and glazed cherries, a raisin bread on steroids, made by Fred’s elegant and gifted wife Patricia. As soon as the loaf arrives, dad opens it up from its foil wrapping, pours bourbon on it, wraps it up again,
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