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This is an account of the first eleven years of my life. And some background material about my parents. Nothing more. It doesn’t pretend to be a great literary work, a suspenseful novel or a searching philosophical prose. 

I have written this to keep the little stories that my mother told me, the little anecdotes from decades ago, the funny sayings that are ours and ours alone, alive for the next generation – if they want them. And they’re here if they do. This will only be of interest to my family. And maybe to some old friends. Or even to historians – who knows? So thank you for buying it, and I hope you may find a sentence or two that brings a smile of recognition, or a tear for what’s been lost. 

My Lovely Arms volume 1

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