A breath shared

I struggled to catch a breath as I leaned up on my pillow, trying to find the next clear bit of air and pull it into my lungs.

I often wondered if there would be another breath but there was an endless desire to keep trying.
As a child, like many others I suffered from a multitude of ailments that made my stay on this earth sometimes tenuous.

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To act is to audition

I am often asked the question “How do I get into acting?” to which I answer, study, study and study, followed by working in every possible opportunity that avails itself to build a resume and gain experience.

It is not an easy adventure no matter where you call home but if you love it, the art will feed you soul, although you better have some other means to feed your tummy and your creditors.
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A fiddle and the fireplace

Some say it was a coal mine cave-in. Others say it was the fever, but whatever the reason my Grandpa Harve found himself orphaned in a time when, if children were lucky, some relative or caring neighbor took them in.

I don’t know much about his childhood, although I am told his tales of life on the Tennessee River rivaled those of Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn.”

When my dad was a boy, Harve gathered the children around the fireplace and before bed told a story of an orphaned boy named A.J. (his real initials), filled with intrigue of riverboat gamblers and the dangers of riding the rapids on a handmade raft.
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