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224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1974
I had loved him and never considered that he was an entire person. Seperate from my boundaries, I had not known before that he had and would have a life beyond being my son, my pretty baby, my cute doll, my charge. In the plowed farmyard near Bakersfield, I began to understand the uniqueness of the person. He was three and I was nineteen, and never again would I think of him as a beautiful appendage of myself.
I thought that if war did not include killing, I'd like to see one every year. Something like a festival.
All the sacrifices had won us victory and now the good times were coming. Obviously, if we earned more than rationing would allow us to spending during wartime, things were really going to look up when restrictions were removed.
There was no need to discuss racial prejudice. Hadn't we all, black and white, just snatched the remaining Jews from the hell of concentration camps? Race prejudice was dead. A mistake made by a young country. Something to be forgiven as an unpleasant act committed by an intoxicated friend.
“Be the best of anything you get into. If you want to be a whore, it's your life. Be a damn good one. Don't chippy at anything. Anything worth having is worth working for.'
It was her version of Polonius' speech to Laertes. With that wisdom in my pouch, I was to go out and buy my future.�