I am a mature Italo-American male. I lived in western Europe as a child and the Far East as an adolescent. Most of my adult life was spent in the South and now I live in central New York. I am an alum of UNC-Chapel Hill where I majored in history.
My mother was active in our church and community until the end of her life. When we lived in France she brought me to a large orphanage to see the abandoned children being cared for by the Catholic nuns. I found myself standing at the entrance of a large refectory filled with hundreds of boys and girls my own age and seeing every set of young eyes fixed on me as if I were the richest and luckiest boy on earth because I wasn’t one of them. My mother also brought me to Flanders Field to see the endless rows of whitewashed headstones on the rich and verdant country-side. There was a huge church on the site holding thousands of bleached skulls and bones piled high in the lower crypt and viewable through the glass windows built around the stone base.
My father was a brave and loyal soldier. He participated in three wars, including WW II, Korea and Vietnam. He was captured at the Battle of the Bulge and missing in action before he reappeared unexpectedly at our doorstep months later. He was nearly captured outside of Seoul as the American forces quickly retreated. He worked near the front lines in Vietnam with the Army signal corp as a civilian technician. He was also an avid cyclist later in life participating in the senior games on the national level.
My mother was active in our church and community until the end of her life. When we lived in France she brought me to a large orphanage to see the abandoned children being cared for by the Catholic nuns. I found myself standing at the entrance of a large refectory filled with hundreds of boys and girls my own age and seeing every set of young eyes fixed on me as if I were the richest and luckiest boy on earth because I wasn’t one of them. My mother also brought me to Flanders Field to see the endless rows of whitewashed headstones on the rich and verdant country-side. There was a huge church on the site holding thousands of bleached skulls and bones piled high in the lower crypt and viewable through the glass windows built around the stone base.
My father was a brave and loyal soldier. He participated in three wars, including WW II, Korea and Vietnam. He was captured at the Battle of the Bulge and missing in action before he reappeared unexpectedly at our doorstep months later. He was nearly captured outside of Seoul as the American forces quickly retreated. He worked near the front lines in Vietnam with the Army signal corp as a civilian technician. He was also an avid cyclist later in life participating in the senior games on the national level.
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