Hard Knocks

It happened over sixty years ago. And still, I hear those booming knocks at my front door. They weren’t ordinary knocks, as they set in motion a series of events that dramatically altered the rest of my life.

Before taking my afternoon naps, Mama would read a story from my favorite comic book. Her animated delivery of Little Lulu’s adventures, finagling her way into the boys-only club or Lulu’s imaginary tales of Old Witch Hazel was the best part of my nap time routine. On one particular day, I was awake in bed for a long time, thinking about Lulu and how she had out foxed Tubby and Iggy into getting them to admit her into their exclusive club.

I had just fallen asleep when I heard a hard “knock, knock, knock” at the front door. Knocks so loud, I heard them clearly from the far back bedroom of our newly built bungalow-style home in West Los Angeles. It was November 1947,

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