Centennial
August 22nd, 1920. What a fine time to be born. With one foot in summer and the other in autumn. One foot in the grave and the other in the crib. That perfect time after the great war and the start of the roaring twenties. The prelude to the depression and the second world war. He embodied Americas winter, spring and summer. It’s hope and it’s despair. The American winter is still longstanding and we fear we may never know spring or summer again. Our century is still young and we have yet to see the end. There is still time. The flowers have not withered, They have yet to bloom. Hope grows in the shadow of Mars.










