Echoes From the Past

As an ex-GI, shopping for some meaning in my seventh decade, I was drawn to the three journals I had kept during World War II. In these yellowing pages, still covered and protected with 1944 brown paper grocery bags, I had hoped to find something about my youth that would, perhaps, illuminate and even explain the exciting journey I am, at the moment, slowly completing. Surprisingly, rereading my teen-age entries (written in blue-black Waterman’s ink and with lots of misspelling), this “olde...