1942 I enlisted in US signal corps. Trained in radar, radio & codes.  I was in Peru, Ecuador Central American jungles & the Galapagos Islands.  Never got shot, but I got wounded.  I got out of WWII in October 1945.
Now I am 77yrs old, go to the VA hospital few times a month. Been married 53 yrs. I have a wonderful family & wife. They take good care of me.

Ladyblue, 12/09/2001

As I sit here by the roaring pinion fire, I reminisce about some of the gifts I have received during various Christmases.  There was the year my younger sister and I (I was 5) sneaked downstairs in the middle of the night to see what Santa had brought. It was there – the play table we had asked for. Everything else was wrapped, and I wondered how Santa had had enough time to wrap every present so beautifully. However, our stockings were still empty, but I was still naïve enough to believe that Santa would come back to fill them.

To acknowledge the passing of Charles N. Breitborde, my father and hero.  Aug. 18, 1915 - Aug. 1, 2003
Spoken at the service for Charles on Aug. 3rd -

We are here to pay tribute to the life of a man.  It is certainly difficult to honor another’s life with mere words. For one so loved and endeared by so many it is far easier to do so with our hearts.  Albeit for many of us with broken ones for a time to come. 

This man wrote his first poem at age eighty-two, and has since then published 1000 poems in 375 magazines.  Never too late!

Remembrance of my loving mother, Doris M. Breitborde. Passing peacefully on Feb. 27, 2004

An individual attending the funeral today spoke with me before the service and mentioned that as it was raining, it reminded him of something his mother used to say. That was, “that rain at a funeral meant the person that had passed away must have had a very good soul”. I certainly think this is true of my mother.

My mother found comfort in the knowledge of her loving family and she considered the families her children married into a part of that loving family.

I was up last night writing, writing and writing concerning what I would tell you about my mother. There are many things I would like to say about her. I would think, almost any child could write volumes about their mother. I certainly could about mine. But I think instead I would like to read a verse from a poem by John G. C. Brainard, which for me seems to describe how most people that knew my mother and father, thought of them. Two people in love, but with a love that melds two lives as if they were one.

“I saw two clouds at morning
Tinged by the rising sun,
And in the dawn they floated on
And mingled into one…”

We were fortunate to have had both my mother and father for so long - but through them I realize that life should not be measured by the number of breaths we take, but rather by the moments that take our breath away.

Stray Cat Eulogy

Living on a 30-acre farm, my 11 year old son is often adopted by stray wildlife who sense his golden heart. Last week, a malnourished near-death young cat spotted him and mewed her way into 1/2 cup of milk. Of course, the cat became one with the deck for the next four days, still sadly unable to eat.


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