In January 1980 I had begun my 54th year of life. Our seven children were ages 30, 28, 26, 24, 21, 17 and 11. I got out the portable typewriter and made a determination to get some writing done at least once per week. I knew I was fortunate to have lived into my 54th year. I had better get serious about writing or what I wanted my children to know about my life would never be known.
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