typeracer

I came into this world in the rough and ready year of 1923. It was a barbarous time, it was a bleak time, and it was an uncivilized time. My memories stretch back almost a hundred years and if I close my eyes, I can smell the poverty that oozes from the dusky tenement streets of my boyhood. I can taste on my lips the bread and drippings that I was served for my tea. I can remember extreme hunger and my parents' undying love for me.