Henry Allen took me on a journey back to my own childhood and the places we lived in Maine. By sharing with us his exquisitely written stories and a wry, razor-sharp sense of humor, Henry gave me a great gift with this book. He had me at "a parade of uniforms" when he described the contents of a relative's closet. I mean, who writes like THAT? Seconds after reading that description, I remembered the shed in our old Maine farmhouse where my father left his moldy clothes from Port Moresby several wars ago. And I cried. With Henry's warts and all descriptions of his relatives, I found the courage to look more carefully at my own. Henry understands the disease of alcoholism and has made the commitment to live sober. My thoughts on this are too hopeful and private to share in this review. So thank you Henry Allen for helping me demystify and debunk the "as told to" histories surrounding my marriage and my family. Gotta love this author!
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