To begin

Most likely only our children will want to read our story. And perhaps their children one day. I've wanted to tell it. Sometimes I think I should tell it as it could have been, should have been. But then I know it was the living of it that mattered then and matters now, not the telling. Our story began one Sunday night in the Fall of 1969. The Fall with its vibrant, beautiful colors. Sunshine warmed days or clear cool days. Evenings smelling of honeysuckle and burning leaves. The last months of the decade of the 60's just after a man flew to the moon and walked on it. Years that had brought so much change. Hippies and Vietnam, the Beattles, innocence floundering in ideas of idealized love and free love. Downtown Philadelphia. Billy Penn on top of City Hall looking down Market Street and Chestnut Street and Broad Street. Historic Tenth Presbyterian Church on the corner of Spruce and Seventeenth. A man and a young girl met...