A Letter to Lawrence - Softcover

Lockwood-Lee, Dennis

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1552122921 ISBN 13: 9781552122921

Publisher: Trafford Publishing, 2006

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An adventurous 80-year old father's memoir, written for his 8-year old son.

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About the Author:

Born in 1920 in England he cried when he had to leave school at 14, knowing there was so much to learn. He says he has been scribbling all his life, and spent money (he couldn't afford) on writing courses. For three years he wrote 1000 word monthly articles for B.C.W.I. magazine. Living alone he has accepted the world's family as his own, and looks forward to being present at his son's graduation in ten years.

from Chapter 1 Death Swallowed up in Victory "I may tell all my bones: they look and stare at me". (Psalms22) Sitting in my four-man cell in the winter of 1944, I was a bunch of bones held together with sinew and covered with wrinkled skin, like an Auschwitz skeleton. I was escaping the one-way trip to the Japanese prisoner-of-war camp hospital. Weighing around sixty pounds, I knew my options were closing in on me. I'd been close to Davie Jones's Locker many times before. If I was heading there again, so be it. But I didn't really want to die just then. There was so much I wanted to know first. I was even prepared to suffer longer to find it. Death's tantalizing shadow was like a sneaky enemy using its guillotine to keep mankind endlessly reincarnating, and I was feeling the keenness of its blade. I believed life and death were processes in life, an opinion I'd derived from intuition and books. How else could I know of such then. Death had been grinning at me for many days, and I knew if it arrived I'd have lots of company. Somewhere in the valleys of death the spirits of many of my buddies lay. Many hanging around the corpses that were strewn around the camp in rough wooden boxes, waiting to be carted to the crematorium. I did not fear death. Life was no picnic and I was angry we had to go through so much hell from the powers that were. It was madness. The whole bloody world was aching and paining as much as my body and nobody with a clue as to why. It was an absurdity. I thought if only I could die and dissolve into nothingness, at least there would be a finality to it. It surely would be for the best, but nothing in me would answer to that buzzer. I watched myself as I drifted in and out of emotions; a little boy's awe for new things, a cynical denial or acceptance, amazement all mixed up with a sardonic humor- it was liking trying to chat up God and the reaper at the same time...

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