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Sickness

My father had terminal lung cancer. He fought like a Spartan at Thermopylae, his body riddled with chemo and radiation, his stomach filled with macrobiotic foods lovingly prepared by my mother, his mind steeped in the defiance of death as exhibited by Dylan Thomas who wrote the words that were buried with him, in his coffin:

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TRUMP, speaking about children who were separated from parents at the U.S.-Mexico border: “They are so well taken care of, they’re in faciliti…

In early May, serious things started going on with me.

The things that I spent my entire adult life trying to learn started to disappear from my mind. My ability to spell words just left me.

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