Foto by Jorma Kaukonen, Sr.
One hundred and eight years ago in East Windsor, Connecticut a little girl was born on a tobacco farm. Her name was Beatrice Love Levine and thirty years later she would become my mother. Indeed, today my brother Peter and I are motherless children, like it says in the song. In the scheme of things, that is as it should be. Sorry you missed your grandchildren mom… you would have loved them and they would have loved you! Perhaps you know that.
I miss you and dad all the time, but we’re alright… and so are you.