the Second World War

The boy in the striped pajamas, and a 12-year-old girl

We were sitting around the couch the other evening and Liz, all 12 years of her, like she was pulling it out the empty space around her, said the sort of thing that can linger in a room a lifetime. “You know,” she said. “World War II was just awful.” I suspect she meant that […]

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Yesterday’s stories. Grandparents. Beauty deep inside.

It was a view from a porch or two but there was a third porch I sat on right around the same time, this front porch at home where I grew up, an old manor in Niagara that dates back to the 1870s,  where Opa Froese, that is my father, still lives. It was my

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