I dedicate this essay to my friend and mentor, Harold Turner, a WWII veteran who fought and survived the Battle of the Bulge.
Veteran’s Day parade in Mississippi
A two hour flight later I was in my beloved South, assaulted by humidity and cold. A heavy and constant rain made it difficult to drive my rented Corolla. I expected humidity and hot and I was shivering in my light clothes. Continue reading
My Dad shortly before his untimely death in 1989
Today marks a quarter of a century since the passing of my Dad before his time. He did not die a natural death, it was an agonizing 30 days of deliberate starvation in the hospital and lack of medical care, lingering and clinging to life after one last beating by communist goons. They cracked his skull when they threw him in a pit of metal lathe shavings from a refinery’s scaffolding. It was not the first time he had been beaten for various reasons, but this time it was most cruel. The metal shavings caused tiny bleeding cuts all over his body as well.