Holland
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This morning was hospital day. This is when I make the mortgage and car payments for the doctors. A friend of mine always receives hugs when she meets with the nurses and doctors. I was greeted with a cheerful, “Good morning. Did you bring your wallet?” A hug would be nice, but, unlike my friend,
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This morning, I awoke feeling as if I were skating on a razor’s edge to the Rolling Stone’s “Sympathy for the Devil.” I distinctly recall one of the last conversations with my father. This took place on an April afternoon shortly before he died in the line of duty with the Oakland, New Jersey, First
Charles van Heck's Woodhull Journal 