My guess, late 1947, their first apartment, no children yet. Mom is seated, Dad standing over her shoulder, passing her hair through his fingertips. Their expressions are carefree, Mona Lisa smiles on them both. The instant is tender, the future a blue heaven of hope. Continue reading
“I don’t like standing near the edge of a platform when an express train is coming through,” Churchill once told his doctor. “I like to stand right back and if possible get a pillar between me and the train.” Continue reading
Far more than decent, the day verged on merry. Kathy and I safely traversed the afternoon, walked foxhound Sherlock Holmes, and settled in for ABC’s World News Tonight with David Muir. That last step was a mistake. Continue reading
A Napper's Companion 