I suspect most children wonder about their parents courting — about early family romance — and wonder if their mother and father felt the same passions as other folks. I sometimes asked my mother about those days. Mom talked about it, but it made her uncomfortable, and if I persisted …
DAILY INTER-LAKE | UPDATED 11 YEARS, 11 MONTHS AGO
I finished my paper route and was eating a cheeseburger and sipping a chocolate shake in the Bon Ton on Main Street in Polson, Montana, on Dec. 7, 1941, when the radio carried news of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
Grandpa and I were born 69 years apart; he on the frontier of “Bleeding Kansas” just before the Civil War, and I in the Rocky Mountains of Northwest Montana just before the Great Depression.
