There was a shower of fresh rain on my drive to work this morning. Driving through a straight away stretch of palm tree lined freeway, a rare southern California rainbow arches over my path, emanating from the horizon and getting lost in the clouds. It belies the day’s true nature.
I’ve dreamt of holding your hand as we run and jump. Bounding, oh bounding! That’s the soul, alive. Feeling the sun as it warms your shoulder. Feeling our hearts grow bolder and bolder. Hearing your breath. In the blue pale night. Dancing, hips, arms, delightful.
Today would be my father’s 81st birthday. I share this remembrance of him — written immediately from when he passed.
Born along the Mosel River in Trier, Rheinland-Pfalz, Deutschland on July 24th, 1935, Ernst Wilhelm Hohmann was quite possibly the most German man you would ever meet. A self-taught engineer, a lover of…