The Bullet

I was eight-years-old when I looked into the face of death for the first time. Growing up I did things that today I realize were risky and ill advised. One such incident happened the summer of my eighth birthday (1953). It was my first glimpse of mortality.

I’ve always been blessed with lots of imagination. I could spend hours playing with a few sticks and some stones. Being a solitary and reflective introvert, I was contented to be alone…