As a child, who thinks of death. I did not even understand death; let alone know what
death really was. The cowboy was shooting Indians. Indians fell off horses. they were dead. OK, next show those Indians were there agian. We pretended to shoot one another, knife one another, pretended to strangle one another. Afterward, we went inside and had hot coco.
but, the day before my birthday...December 16, 1955; my 1st father died! And, I as a child....was angry. I was angry...
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