“The future is not set. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.”
As a working class, second-generation Irish kid born in a little town all of one mile square in upstate New York, I saw my father for the last time on a summer’s day in 1973. We were in a Long Island Holiday Inn. He had prepaid for a hotel room that would cover a two-week stay and house my mother, my 12-year-old sister, my 5-year-old brother, and me. At 13 years old, I was the oldest.
Image 10.1: Shawn K. Osborne. Photo copyright ...