The Gate of Eternity
Our Fleeting Past and Boundless Future
I don’t bear the burden of depression, but melancholy seems to have taken root at a young age. When I was a child of five or six, my mother gave me a nickel to walk to the Victory market in Dryden (near our home in upstate New York) and buy a fudgsicle. I vividly remember sitting on the curb with my dripping treat as the …
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