Born May 4, 1918, Dad was the youngest of three boys. He was a bit of a rake, he said. He was certainly a story teller. We never knew what to believe. Did he and his brothers really get sent home by the cops when they climbed up the old windmill at Ocean Beach? Did …
Tag Archives: dad
Sunday Morning
I’m sleeping. Sort of. I was tossing and turning all night. Stresses of the day added to a damn head cold. DING. Cell phone message alert. I think about rolling over to check it. It takes me a minute. Mom, could you come stay with Micah? He’s still sleeping and the rest of us are …
Writer Paints 