Pondering The Big Questions

It was almost 4 o’clock on a summer afternoon in 1971. I was 11 years old and my buddies were over at my house playing kickball in the back yard. I heard the cranking noise that the window off the kitchen made when it was being opened. Mom usually hollered from that window to tell us it was time for dinner or to get in before the rain started or to stop kicking the ball against the house. But it …


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