I never hugged my father, Art. His B-24 was shot down before I was
born. But I have spent my life searching
for him: what he was like, his joys and loves, his talents and treasures. I have molded my personality around what I
have discovered. I continue to carry on
connections and discern directions I believe he would approve.
Honoring historical and contemporary women who demonstrate deep courage and conviction in the face of trouble, turmoil and controversy through poetry, essays and quilting.
Friday, June 14, 2013
MY DADS
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
SPEAK FOR THE LAND Temples of sacred rock Templates of sequestered ravines Treasures of seasonal ren...
-
SPEAK FOR THE LAND Temples of sacred rock Templates of sequestered ravines Treasures of seasonal ren...
-
Honoring Anne Frank's 90th Birthday Week with a view from her window in the Attic of her family's Annex hiding spot
-
“Let’s sleep on the beach tonight!” It was a spontaneous moment. Three out of four of my grandchildren were eating their first dinner to...
No comments:
Post a Comment