My first paying job when I was a kid was going over to this nice old lady's house and walking her little dog, then playing with him for awhile in her living room. I don't think she wanted the dog to have playtime so much as she liked my company. She had a number tattooed on her arm. Mrs. Goldblum, of blessed memory (+).
Holocaust deniers really piss me off. My father liberated one of the death camps in WWII, as an American GI. Why would my father lie about that, especially since the memory of doing so would cause him stop, and as tears came to his eyes, say, "I'm sorry, Baby Girl, I can't talk about that anymore . . ."
0 comments:
Post a Comment