EXCERPT:
GUTHRIE: "About once a year in the summertime, cousin Teri orchestrated a kidnapping of my sister and me. It went down like this. The cousins would visit for a few days at our house in Tucson, and then on the morning they were to leave, Teri would wake us up early, shushing us in the predawn darkness as we made our escape. We would all pile into her rickety station wagon and head north, the sky streaking with bright oranges and pinks as the sun rose over the colorless desert landscape. Somewhere between Phoenix and Tucson, Teri would make a pit stop and let Annie and me call home at a pay phone. 'Mom, cousin Teri kidnapped us to take us to her house.' My mother would feign shock, protest how terribly she would miss us, and assure us she'd drive up to retrieve us in a few days."