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The day I nearly lost him, he was such a little man. Rolling his miniature suitcase down the concourse with his boarding pass, threading his way through the taller adults, he looked back just once like a confident boy friend, roguish that he was in the lead, then disappeared from the face of the earth, a suddenly vulnerable child without his mother. Read the rest of this entry »

That was your idea of an apology, old man?—that preposterous collection of sophistry and insults? Did you forget you were talking to a jury of 500 farmers? Athens is still a democracy, whatever you may wish. 251 farmers can stop all debate. Read the rest of this entry »

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Behind the Pseudonym

The pen name davidbdale honors my mother Beatrice (Bea) and my father Dale

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