Stories by the fireside… We didn’t have a fireplace in our New York City apartment, although my dad continued his fireside storytelling tradition throughout the winter months—minus the crackling fire of course. I remember many
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A little Girl’s dad
The man. WW2 Soldier. Faithful husband. Dad. Storyteller. A Father of three quirky daughters, and a daddy to one of the fairest butterfly fairy-wannabes. Me. My dad will always be my first hero. He’s the
Read moreGhosts of White Winters Past
Winter, 1969. New York City A blizzard’s eerie silence overshadowed the distant honking and revving engines from the usual Saturday night car races. I remember my dad‘s contagious laugh echoing through our apartment hallway after
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