In life we hold on to our faith, family, friends, our sense of humor, our memories, and our promises. As a child, it might be a make-believe world. Sometimes it's something physical like a prayer card or a twist tie, a school bag or a rosary bead. Maybe it's a photo. Everything we hold dear brings us hope and comfort during both good and bad times. I write what I and others have held on to; I recount my experiences as a late Baby Boomer raised in rural Pennsylvania, and most importantly, by a Hungarian father, an immigrant, who escaped the Soviet Invasion in 1956.
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