How can I like that. Because a good writer writes me into a spell of truth, that’s how. I hate the humanity of hatred and lesser desperations, I hate that lesser exists. I hate how vulnerable hatred is, and damnit, I love your honesty. Gut punch.
I’m so sorry for your loss. Was your father in the Korean War? WWtwo.
When I waited for my lottery number for Vietnam I talked to my father. He recounted his experience in the south seas and told me avoid enlisting if you can. War is ugly. And viet nam war is uglier. Don’t go.
Father had episodes. He lost more than half the crew in the jungle. He was. Marine. South Pacific. Long term. With long term PTSD. Died young in 1980. Trauma in my life. But yet. He had friends. and respect. The Japanese orchardist were his friends. Slack time in February and carpentry work slow. He pruned and propped their trees. He was a Goodman at heart.
Wow
Beautiful.
painfully powerful
Wow. Great work.
BS"D
This is wonderful, Sherman. I don't think you need an editor.
Best,
Peter
Whether fiction or true, this story has me pondering its meaning. Thank you.
Thank you for this gift. 🙏🏼 🙏🏼
"When Catholics squint, everything looks like Eucharist." I almost spit my coffee out. Really nice piece.
Speechless. Words written in an ink pulled from the pigments of collapsed stars.
What strange delusions some build for strange reasons. It’s good to hear you speak of being orphaned. I still can’t bear to do that.
My father survived to bring his
Horror
home I might or might not post anything about it.
Dense, dense, dense. I wonder how much sorry and pain is too much and hope I don't have to find out. thanks Sherm.
You have to be a great writer to condense your style like that, creating the atmosphere of a wonderful poem.
How can I like that. Because a good writer writes me into a spell of truth, that’s how. I hate the humanity of hatred and lesser desperations, I hate that lesser exists. I hate how vulnerable hatred is, and damnit, I love your honesty. Gut punch.
I’m so sorry for your loss. Was your father in the Korean War? WWtwo.
When I waited for my lottery number for Vietnam I talked to my father. He recounted his experience in the south seas and told me avoid enlisting if you can. War is ugly. And viet nam war is uglier. Don’t go.
Father had episodes. He lost more than half the crew in the jungle. He was. Marine. South Pacific. Long term. With long term PTSD. Died young in 1980. Trauma in my life. But yet. He had friends. and respect. The Japanese orchardist were his friends. Slack time in February and carpentry work slow. He pruned and propped their trees. He was a Goodman at heart.