Okay, this most likely will only be of interest to family members… if anyone at all. I am not quite sure why I got to thinking about this.
We moved to Italy in 1964 for a stay of a little over three years. My father would have been 33 and my mother 30, turning 31 in September of that year. I don’t know about you, but in my early 30s I still had a lot of growing up to do, but then again, I took a long time to mature. I am not sure I am there yet, and I hear my second childhood knocking (down?) on the door.
I would have just turned the ripe old age of 12 when we moved there. My father had already been there for two or three months, and he had an Continue reading “I Cried Myself to Sleep”