As our interview for the day ended, I stood up wearily, stretching my cramped fingers. Comer, my WWII veteran friend, was rifling through pictures from the years surrounding the war.
"Here I am as a soldier boy," he said, handing it to me. He was a very handsome man. Had a Rock Hudson kind of look. No wonder so many of his WWII stories ended up with him finding a "pretty little girl".
"I was kinda day dreaming," he said, looking at me sheepishly, "Do you think we could get this made into a movie?"
A movie? I haven't even written the book yet, nor attracted an agent or publisher, and he is ready to start handing out movie rights? How am I not bound in the end to disappoint this 93 year old man, sitting there with his notes he'd prepared for the interview neatly arranged on his lap?
"I been thinking about a name for the book," he added.
I sensed I was losing control of this process.
But I remembered what my neighbor Dee, who also takes time every week with her husband to visit Comer, had said.
"Your book is what's keeping him alive," she had told me.
I sat back down.
"What name did you want to call it?" I asked.
Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my
strength is spent.
2 Corinthians 4:16
Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being
renewed day by day.
-save a dog- hollowcreekfarm.org