an old writer and his words

  • CH-CH-CH-CHANGES

    Walking back through my lifeI can now begin to see when and wherethings changed, where I changed, wherethe place I thought of as my homebecame alien, altered, as thoughthe weathering of time wore awaywhat I now know were carefully appliedveneers, real enough seeming to meand to others who stopped to visit.And when the music changed…

    Lou Faber

  • JUST ONE MORE HAND

    My parents, well my father,always felt is was necessaryto stop on the way to our summer homein the Western Adirondacksto visit Uncle Morris, who mayor may not have been an unclein the blood sense, it was never clear.It was he who sold my father the cottagenear the small lake, he who nowlived in a nursing…

    Lou Faber