From angry to happy forgiveness

I seldom write when I am angry. This column is an exception.The genesis of this column is estimated to be sometime between 1953-55. Only two persons were present—Tony, my favorite fishing cousin, and yours truly. The location was an old brick Indiana farmhouse built in 1869. Portions of our discussion took place in the front seat of my dad’s 1951 stick-shift Chevy and in the aforemen...