It looked like there was a story in there. My editor turned it down saying that 9/11 had already passed, but I still feel that someone has to read thi..., feel this man’s pain and, maybe a little of our national pain. So . . . here goes. — — — — — — — — — Clancy started out by telling me about his mother and how she’d died a little before Christmas several years ago. Her illness had been short, although not quick, but for myself, it seems to me that it was painless. I was glad when he told me. Later, when “Childrens hour” was over Susan and my brother went off somewhere and Alan and I went across the fields to the woods. There was a tree house in the woods, and Alan led me there. Once inside he proceeded to take down his shorts and play with his “willie”, I was fascinated, apart from the one time in the headmasters office I had only ever seen one other boy, my brother!The summer came and went, “dirty games” in the tree house became a daily occurrence, though all we did was fumble. More

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