“No, thanks,” I said. “That’s alright.”
“O.K.,” she said, “I’d better be getting back home then.”
This happend a few years ago, and I remember at the time being charmed by this young girl’s innocence, even a little scared for her, that she felt so comfortable with a complete stranger. I didn’t know then that Glenn’s daughters and sons (four at home; five total) were adopted, or that they’d come from families with disfuntions too numerous or gruesome to mention.
But now that I do know, it’s hard to see Glenn and his wife, Christine, as anything other than master child builders.
“The craft of parenting teaches us a tremendous ammount of patience,” he says, pausing. “These kids are so resilient . . . it does a lot for my heart to see them rise above their various seen and unseen problems.”
I hope someday they can know the dedication of a pair of hands that has handled them–crafted them, worked with them, taken time with them.
Sanded and prodded and tweaked. I hope they can see those hands.
Boy are you out of date. Mention Walker to the Boo Boys and you’ll get the cold shoulder . That happened three years ago. trying to romanace the cane is like squeezing blood from a rock. If you started off with a synthetic or even glass you’ll never be a cane to the heart fisher which means you got to be over 60 to be a real fisher of trout with cane. Like shooting with a semi auto vs a English sxs shotgun
It’s worth noting that this article was originally published in 1999. The original date of pub is up on the header in tiny font. Perhaps Mr Bellefe missed it.