I am putting these stories here because the experiences expressed have been of such an indelible nature. They have lain mostly unconscious or at least unaccessed until recently when they began to surface. They seem best suited to the pen and not pastel and have asked to be told.

Small Moments

Forest Haven

In 1973 I was an employee of the D.C. government, working at an institution called Forest Haven. It was, in essence, a warehouse for the developmentally disabled children and adults of that city unwanted by their families. They all ended up somewhere among the sprawling grounds and large buildings of Forest Haven.

Grandmother Crawford

We were coming home from my Grandmother Crawford’s house on Bear Creek. As often happened during the summer I had just spent a fun week at her house on the far east part of the city and my parents had come to collect me. It was a Sunday night and traffic was sparse as we rounded past the huge steel yards that stretched for miles, giving way gradually to sparsely settled towns from there to our house near Annapolis.

Freddy Barth

We had lived in Severna Park for less than a year when we had a visit from the Barths, a family of four, friends of my parents from our previous home in Baltimore. Quite the opposite of the city, our small township near Annapolis abounded with woods, rivers, and untouched land.