As December approached, I could not contain myself, anticipating the arrival of my unknown uncle. I moved my clothes and books into my sister Blanche’s room, where I carved out a corner.
Blanche was living at Roosevelt State Hospital in Menlo Park in December 1959. She had been committed there in September. My Saturdays that fall were filled with trips to the hospital near Princeton, while my friends played and went to movies. I hated visiting her there. (more…)
This wonderful review was posted by Denis Ledoux on Amazon.com – http://amzn.com/B00FVXF5JC
I am humbled by your kind words, Denis.
“Libby Atwater has written a book that is rich in the culture of the times she grew up in (and as such an interesting read in this regard), but it is also a story of a hero’s journey who is facing trials seemingly beyond her abilities to overcome.
Orphaned by the time she was in her mid-teens, shunted from relative to relative, Atwater taps “What Lies Within” to fashion in time a life she could live. Coming from a stable home, I can only imagine the emotional difficulties Libby Atwater faced in her pursuit of an adult life that would be happy, fulfilling, and contributory.
My hat is off to her! If you are looking for an uplifting story, this one will inspire you.”
As we ate dinner after his arrival, my newfound uncle from California dabbed at his mustache and said, “Ruth, I’d like to take you to some Broadway shows, go to Radio City Music Hall, and see the sights of New York. It’s been so long since I was in New York.”
My mother demurred. “I’d love to go with you, but I don’t have that much freedom. Libby will be on vacation in a few days. Why don’t you take her to New York? I’ll join you on days that I can.” (more…)
This morning I hung the American flag outside our door to remember those who perished on this day fourteen years ago. Nearly three-thousand flags fly on the lawns of Pepperdine University in memory of those who perished that day. (more…)
I was a fearful child, and many of my fears were instilled by my older sister, Blanche.
Born four years before me, while World War II raged, she was adopted shortly after her birth. (more…)
I married Neil Goodman when I was three years old. He was four. We were inseparable and played together from the time we could walk. Throughout our toddler years, we became best friends. One day while we were playing, Neil turned to me and asked, “Bibby (he couldn’t say the letter “L”), would you marry me?” (more…)