Recollections: Larry

My own father sent me away to be raised by an uncle and an aunt who had no children. After a year or so, they sent me to my grandmother in Valley City, North Dakota, a perfect village for a child to be raised in. But I did see my father, occasionally, over the years and I admired him for a number of reasons: his occupation as a railroad telegrapher, his carving of wooden horses, and his insatiable curiosity, which I thankfully inherited. He died at 60 and now I’m 83. Looking back, I understand him better but not completely. Having raised a son and daughter, I both understand yet am somewhat perplexed as to how he could send me away at age 5. But, I remain forever grateful because of where I landed and for the care I received from my grandmother. Happy Father’s Day, Dick. I enjoyed the photos which reminded me of my own “command central.” It’s a place in my life that has always been – now, more than ever – my personal refuge.