The Lost Father

November 5, 2013

When I was in first grade Miss Charles (whom we called Charlie because of her mustache) marched us into the auditorium to learn “My Country ‘Tis of Thee.” She sat down at the piano and led us through the song word by word, playing the piano with one hand and directing us with the other. When we came to the phrase “Land where my father died,” I couldn’t figure out how they all knew. At home my father’s death was this big secret. There wasn’t even a photograph of him anywhere, as if a picture could suddenly whisper the truth. Since all the other kids had fathers I reasoned it must be my father who died on the land they were singing about.

 

He vanished without a trace of the ordinary clutter and detail of a life, leaving not a shadow nor footprint. There were no letters or insurance papers or tax receipts to find. Not a watch or drivers’ license or birth certificate or deed to a house. No marriage license or diploma. No fading photograph that he carried, maybe of me. Not a wedding portrait or snapshot at the beach. It was as if during the 29 years of his life on earth he was already a ghost.

 

So I embarked on a search for the father I never knew...

 

 

Click here to read entire post on the Huffington Post Website

Please reload

Featured Posts

Although I believe censorship is a potential danger to the First Amendment’s protection of free speech, I find myself wistful for the bad old days of...

Why I Find Myself Wistful for the Old Days of Movie Censorship

June 24, 2016

1/10
Please reload

Recent Posts

October 21, 2016

August 10, 2016

June 6, 2016

May 3, 2016

February 17, 2016

January 8, 2016

Please reload

Archive
Please reload

Search By Tags

I'm busy working on my blog posts. Watch this space!

Please reload

Follow Us
  • Facebook Basic Square
  • Twitter Basic Square
  • Google+ Basic Square