They date from June 1942 to June 1945—three years of a life interrupted by the Second World War. They’ve held up surprisingly well, given they are more than 70 years old. They’ve survived scorching summers and frigid winters in various attics, as well as several moves, but they did not survive their author, my father. …
Because my mother is no longer alive to ask, I try to imagine the emotions that would have been swirling through her mind as she entered Penn Station on an unknown day in early January of 1944—fear, excitement—surely she must have experienced both. It was cold then, temperatures hovered around 27 degrees—and although I don’t …
Read more from Lynne Cobb on her blog, Midlife Random Ramblings where she writes about her experience as an Army wife and an Air Force mom, as well and how she dealt with the loss of her father to Alzheimer’s. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. John …
“I think when I was two years old in the sandbox. I think I formulated my basic philosophy there, and I haven’t really had to alter it very much ever since.” – Boyd Rice My oldest son has been out of the house for almost five years, leaving home for basic training. Not too long after …
This was the perfect timing to read The Cartographer of No Man’s Land by P.S. Duffy. I loved that I was reading a novel set during World War I on Veterans Day, since the date honors the armistice that ended the war on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918. My grandfather, …
