I was a cute kid. Most children are cute when they’re young. In the 1960s and 1970s I grew up to be a cute teenager, and then, a nice-looking young adult, slim, six feet tall (actually 5 feet 11 and ¾ inches, but no one needed to know that), with thick, wavy brown hair that some girls really seemed to like. I was pleased with my good looks and credited them with the fact that girls approached me at times, showing interest, helping me to overcome my fatal shyness.
Read MoreMy Father’s War
What really took place in that little town in France is a tiny unrecorded speck of history. My father’s memory may have been clouded by his angst or his desire to forget. Over sixty years ago my father told me a story. My own mind has since suffered mightily and my memory has sometimes proven faulty, including a few times when a previous creative effort impersonated an actual memory.
I can only tell you what I remember … or what I think I remember.
Read MoreWritten Words That Span the Ages
Some words have eloquence and grace that span the ages
They bring hearts and minds together
They offer hope and promise sweet relief
His Father's Child
Ensnared inside that private pain
where things forgotten still remain
there loomed a tragic life long laid to rest.