When I was growing up, children were sometimes seen but not heard. I remember family camping trips, picnics, and long car rides. Those excursions were warm and loving, but I hardly remember any individual time with either one of my parents.
On Sunday mornings I would drive with my father to the bakery to pick up sweet rolls and fresh bread. Those were special times. On holidays, I remember helping my mother bake her famous apple pie. I loved the smell of baking apples in the warm kitchen.
As the youngest of three boys, I often stayed back with my mom while my older brothers... Read More