Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Fourscore and a single year ago, I became a new addition to a planet of people in full growth and potential for the future. Before I could understand the meaning of loss, I was to see the death of my father. One moment he was lifting me high in the air so the waves of the ocean would not reach my face, and the next he was gone.I remember sitting in the wet sand with my brother and grandparents while the blinking lights of the ambulance took my father away - my mother crying in the front seat. Over the years, I would not remember my father's face but I would remember the new bathing suit Mom bought for me. It had a detachable top connected with a metal zipper which started to rust within hours. It was made of itchy wool and had not dried the whole day later when we drove back home to Philadelphia.
Three years later I was to join a group of foster sons of a great man. It is to this man - Stephen Girard that I dedicate this blog.
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