I am going to deviate just a little bit this morning from my normal routine. I had promised all of you the next installment in the William Stephenson story about how he became a key inspiration for Ian Flemming’s master spy James Bond. To be honest though I really haven’t had the time this weekend to hit the books and do the research required to write a top notch history.
This weekend I spent with my darling daughter who lives a couple of hours out of Winnipeg. It was her 14th birthday last weekend so I took the chance this weekend to spend a fun filled day with her bowling and generally having a good time.
In any regard that got me thinking about my own situation, as many of you may know I am an adopted son to my late father and globe-trotting mother. It’s the only life that I have ever known so please don’t feel badly for me. I really couldn’t have asked for better parents and the childhood that I had was a very happy one in most regards, but there has always been a hole in my heart that I have never been able to fill. The one left by my birth mother when I left her arms and was taken into foster care.