The day before he died, my father, Robert M. Schrag, listened as I read his obituary. I pulled up a chair by the recliner in his living room, where once he had read to me and my siblings the tales of Robin Hood and the poems of Poe and Frost.
The day before he died, my father, Robert M. Schrag, listened as I read his obituary. I pulled up a chair by the recliner in his living room, where once he had read to me and my siblings the tales of Robin Hood and the poems of Poe and Frost.
