If A Man Wishes To Truly Not

The Silence Was Part Of The Story I Wanted To Tell.

Growing Up In The Fifties And Sixties, I Can Only Remember Knowing One Child, Ever, Whose Parents Got A Divorce, And Hardly Any Whose Mother "worked" At Anything Besides Raising Her Children.

I Do Not Outline. There Are Writers I Know And Count As My Friends Who Certainly Do It The Other Way But For Me Part Of The Adventure Is Not Knowing How It's Going To Turn Out.

I'd Known Enough Flush Times And Lean Ones To Understand That Money Came And Went. And That One Day I'd Also Lose My Looks, My Seemingly Boundless Energy And Maybe The Ability To Catch The Eye Of An Attractive Man And The Audacity To Rollerblade. My Name Would Be Forgotten. So Would Bad Reviews, And Good Ones. But Loving A Child Is Something That Lasts. Long After All The Rest Is Gone, That's What Endures.

It's Not Only Children Who Grow. Parents Do Too. As Much As We Watch To See What Our Children Do With Their Lives, They Are Watching Us To See What We Do With Ours. I Can't Tell My Children To Reach For The Sun. All I Can Do Is Reach For It, Myself.