My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
The Shelf Life of Kings
They were a noble people, the chiefs and kings, rulers of their world until someone told them they were backward, savages in need of civilization, progress, and religion from another age. In that moment they became nothing at all. They ceased to be and some even said it was for their own good.
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