This picture is of my own father holding me in his lap in the Boston Public Gardens when I was obviously not very old at all.
We can clearly feel a sense of love in his smile that has bypassed the pain and suffering of his own childhood and maturation into maledom.
Obviously I was not a year old and now I’m working on completing my 70th.
He was 41 and not expecting to have children nor did he want them as he was the oldest of 10 children in a time when the world crashed around him.
There was a love/hate energy between he and his father because he had to leave school before entering the 8th grade to help his mother take care of his younger siblings.
A very brilliant child whose dreams of the future were shattered and he never overcame the pain of that wound no…
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