Vern is my intended audience. A letter to my grandson about my dad was precisely what I needed for a story I had wanted to tell for as long as I can remember, and it gave me license to tell it in precisely the way I wanted to tell it. It’s grass roots history. If someone else wants to read it, that’s good. It’s a good book with some important observations. But it’s more than anything a letter to Vern. Maybe it’s a letter to two Verns. I’m glad I lived long enough to do it

Walking on the remnants of Somerset and my grandparents’ farm while being in the process of creating this story is profound. In visiting the re-located Pleasant Grove cemetery where my parents and grandparents are buried, I see names on markers that I had not recognized before I started telling my grandson about Dad. Florence Roby. Omma Sweet. That again speaks to a different obligation than what I would feel in a traditionally academic approach. Did Elie Wiesel need a fact c

Before the flood

What draws me back to my father's house