I cannot watch war movies. In my mind’s eye, I interpose my father trudging through rice paddies in Vietnam, trudging through tall grass so thick, it slices the skin. I see his small frame – just a boy – whose uniform in later years fit his 13-year-old grandson. I seeContinue Reading
I had a friend here [at home]. His name was Dennis. He wrote me a few times. Before the war, his house was like a second home to me, because I was always over there. He lived at home with his mom, dad, and sister. His father was a sheetContinue Reading
Our evening was cooler than expected. A quick but fierce thunderstorm moved through our late July afternoon that day, complete with loud rolling booms, cracks of lightning, and a torrent of falling water. On the northern Appalachian Trail, among the beech, maple, and birch-covered Green Mountains of Vermont, our campingContinue Reading