My earliest memories of childhood are of my sister’s funeral. Debbie died of Leukemia at age seven; I was only five. We were born two years and one day apart, and each year I celebrate her birthday in my heart the day before mine. My world fell apart when she died. Grief counseling was virtually unheard of when I was a child. The adults in my...Read More

By the time I was ten, my parents were divorced and I lived with my dad. He was a proud man — a decorated WWII veteran and proud of it. He was also an alcoholic and was functionally illiterate. His paychecks for delivering pies to grocery stores were very small. So, what was he to do when his son saw an elaborate train set, complete with a sm...Read More

One of my favorite memories of Christmas would be listening to our Dzarjew (grandfather in Polish) singing "Silent Night" as he sat by the Christmas tree. He was a very sweet and sentimental man who loved Christmas and his many grand children. There were 6 in our family. He would tell us about the old country and begin to well up with tea...Read More