One day, close to tax-filing deadline, dad was sitting on the edge of his bed. He was sorting W-2 forms. There must have been twenty of them. Maybe more. Twenty jobs. Five children to feed and clothe. Dad was the ninth of ten kids. He was born in the middle of the depression. I never knew we were poor. Continue reading Rich
She dances without moving Sails billow without wind Cannons, crossed, are silent Ship’s anchor is aweigh Inked in black, his life Forever tattooed in my mind. Continue reading The Sailor
Dad and I used to go the movies together when I was a kid and we were stationed in Soesterberg, Netherlands. Thursday night at the Camp New Amsterdam Air Force Base theater was westerns and war movies. All my buddies and their dads went. Mom would make grilled cheese sandwiches for dad and me at home, then we’d have popcorn and soda – and candy … Continue reading Thursday Nights with Dad
I studied him, eyes closed as if in prayer, Rugged face and furrowed brow. I yearned to see him and not stare; Aged, no youth in him now. I wondered how he came to be, This man I met each day. How he came to mean so much to me, Why our lives had crossed this way. I saw a man who thought life sad, … Continue reading This Man I knew
The Writings of William C. Pennington 