Librería Samer Atenea
Librería Aciertas (Toledo)
Kálamo Books
Librería Perelló (Valencia)
Librería Elías (Asturias)
Donde los libros
Librería Kolima (Madrid)
Librería Proteo (Málaga)
This is a family tale that in all likelihood you will find highly unusual. Aside from some parental history, the time period generally covers from 1946 through to the year of 1962. I grew up in a seemingly standard mother and father family of six boys and one adopted girl. But family life was anything but the staid 'Father Knows Best' or 'Donna Reed Show' role model families that kids of my 1950’s generation grew up watching on television. For starters, how many American families can say that they spent their childhoods overseas in an exotic foreign country? I spent my 'wonder years' growing up in Morocco. And, in 1951, it was still at war with France when we arrived. I spend a good deal of time describing the Moroccan society, marketplaces, neighborhoods, and military bases because I wish to share these memories with others who lived there during this same time period. I also wish to share my memories with others who never had the opportunity to experience living in a foreign culture, especially one still at war. Look at it as a new perspective and documents to offer historians and psychologists’. The additional details I present should set the records straight about any past era using the trivial details as I recalled them. The map of the base alone I provide is a major plus for the records.The family itself was originally made up of four children: one girl and three boys. Julia was the eldest adopted as a baby. Sixteen years would pass before the first of the next set of three boys would join the family. Despite the time difference, the similarity between the two sets of boys is uncanny and will be revealed in detail later in the book. Basically, the two oldest sons ran afoul of the law on numerous occasions. The two youngest boys had foul mouths, mistreated their wives, and always had something nasty to say about others. With the exception of my mother (still living) and me, none of us have been very close as adults. Dad passed away November 1979 when I was 31 years old. I wish it were different but you can’t force people to love you or to want to spend time with you. Who knows what controls personal chemistry. In any case, several of my siblings would go on to have families of their own. None of these families were close. Oftentimes I had to intervene to help nephews survive their fathers (my brothers) by supporting them financially or providing them a place to stay.The effort to assemble everyday facts and happenings was Herculean, but ultimately snippets dropped in helter-skelter among the context with each other I hoped to add some personal individuality, mannerism, and such. This is my very first attempt at writing a book - so...
