From time-to-time I will publish photo essays, or my poetry, and of my life on this curios planet, Earth. Time on Terra is precious and it is a mark of dignity to record it as much as possible for others to read, or in this case see and read.
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Dad holding a captured Germany rifle and what looks like a captured German Kübelwagen, and the banner photo is of Dad after returning from War, about 1945.
By piecing together his war history, I learned why my father was so anxious, and so frightened by the slightest thunderclap that graced our section of north Missouri, that he was a broken man, and I know why he was hard to live with. I like to remember the good times with him, but he was deeply philosophical, most of it lost on my young mind. He was highly self-educated, and he had a great understanding of the stars, but most of all his PTSD isolated him from people. He didn't like doctors, and didn't like closed in spaces like elevators (I assume that was from the constant bombardment he had to endure.) He had an extensive library and I seldom saw him at rest without a book in his hand, God rest his soul!
