Call me Pinky. My pregnant wife slipped on some afterbirth and fell down the stairs of our Napa Valley bungalow. When she gave birth to our son, William Fontaine III, he had a dent the shape of Mississippi in his forehead. That’s where his grand-pappy, his namesake, is from. We considered it a miracle. What’s
Why did life have to be like this? I had been through one relationship after another, mostly parting as “friends,” and I did not get it–on a train to nowhere, stopping at stations. With Jeanne we stopped once a year. I could want her all I wanted, and that was all. I could hear in
The Training Centre (Normandy, April 1945) Eleanor has found a needle and thread: she can sew my shoulder patches on now. We walk down to the crumbling concrete bench that runs along the esplanade, and look at the waves. I give her my khaki jacket and the two little pieces of cloth, and watch as
This is written prior to Sidney being a priest and a detective in the well-known TV Series. He is a young man off to war and the horror, trials and traumas that comes with such a burden. During this time Sidney and a group of other young men are sent to find some engineers, who
It’s easy to be scathing about the recent BBC adaptation of Watership Down. All the criticisms are valid particularly regarding the animation; the rabbits are almost indistinguishable and look more like hares than rabbits. There are peculiar diversions from the novel – I was particularly aghast at a bizarre pink crystal-worship-chanting scene. There are several
