Dear Grandpa Izzie, Every April, when the Tigers usher in Spring, I think of you and your joy of baseball. I wrote this little children’s story for you, about Mark Fidrych, a great Tiger pitching sensation who arrived on the scene a few years after you died in 1970. He had a zany personality, just like you. You’ll be happy to know, I’ve passed on your love of baseball to my two sons and now to my two granddaughters. PS. …
Blues at Dawn I don’t dare start thinking in the morning. I don’t dare start thinking in the morning. If I thought thoughts in bed, Them thoughts would bust my head – So I don’t dare start thinking in the morning. I don’t dare remember in the morning Don’t dare remember in the morning. If I recall the day before, I wouldn’t get up no more – So I don’t dare remember in the morning. ~ Langston Hughes Most …
Al Qaeda, The Enemy – Up Close & Personal Being escorted on a Jeep through the Golan Heights by Elan, a recently retired military intelligence officer, was one of the highlights of my recent trip to Israel. After a rugged ride through back roads and trails, we reach a high post on the mountaintop. Elan was explaining to us about how, due to the internal fighting between many factions, Syria could hardly be considered a unified country any longer. Not only were …
Dear Mom, Even though you have been gone for over 15 years, I feel that I owe you a debt of gratitude for your efforts during World War II. Over the last few weeks, I have been writing about Dad going overseas to fight in the World War II. I realize that I have not mentioned you in my posts. In reviewing the World War II photos from your collection, I came across several of you and Dad …
Dear Dad, I recently left a note for you at the Western Wall in Jerusalem. I expressed my appreciation for your efforts to defeat the Nazis in World War II. I now need to tell you about another extremely powerful experience. The next day after visiting the wall, I visited the Holocaust Museum, Yad Vashem. I must tell you about how overwhelming the experience was. Even though I had been to Holocaust Museums before, due to the current political situation …
In the Footsteps of My Father My father, Albert Pasick, died in 1999 without ever giving me many details about his time in the service. I knew that he had been a medic in the Army in the Middle East and had attained the rank of sergeant. Beyond that, he was reluctant to share many more details. After his death, I tried to research what he was doing in the Middle East. All I had to draw from were …