Where Have All the Storytellers Gone?

As today is the anniversary of “the day the music died,” and as the recent winter storm still has most of life’s operations at a standstill, I thought it an appropriate time to jot down what’s been swirling around in my mind for the last few weeks.

I was born in 1967,  amidst a time of great turmoil in our country.  And, since I’m going to be drawing parallels here, I might as well point out the irony that, as I do, I was born after a huge winter storm, rivaling the one we just had.  I don’t remember that storm, or much about the time in which I was born, but I’ve learned, and I’m living now.