Worry; the signature of caring . . .
My sister and I began our lives in Kansas City. We lived in a nice suburban neighborhood where the space between houses could be stepped off; heel-toe, heel-toe and everyone had a chain-link fence surrounding their back yard. This was the 1960’s when a kid’s bike was their favorite mode of transportation. A bicycle represented freedom as we pedaled and glided up and down streets with the wind rushing in our faces and nowhere to be until the streetlight came on at dusk.
Read MoreWorry; the signature of caring . . .