Please journey back in time with me to August 17th of 1917. There's someone there that I want you to meet. We're visiting the rather nondescript little village of Meadowvale, Minnesota, distiguished by little but a failing general store and a number of small homesand farmsteads.
It is swelteringly hot, and a seven year old boy trudges slowly up the dirt road toward his home. He wears bib overalls, he's shirtless and shoeless, in all a rather handsome little lad. He's been at the…Continue
On a quiet, tree-lined street, in a tiny rural town, many years
ago, a little boy, excessively clothed against the bitter cold made
his way up the driveway of the small aging house. Cold it was, indeed.
Pale blue moonlight tumbled and tripped across the drifts and rills of
snow that had formed in the yard, leaving puddles of shadow in its
wake. His breath crackled into ice fog with every exhalation, and the
snow squeaked and squealed under his clumsy…