| My parental roots were formed in the | | | | occasionally broken by fighter jets from |
| clay packed soil of small towns in the | | | | Andrews Air Force Base roaring across |
| Deep South. From Cuthbert, Georgia to | | | | the skies or a tractor sputtering along |
| Marks, Mississippi to Booneville, | | | | Oxen Hill Road. Once part of small town |
| California some of my adult | | | | America, Oxen Hill now is a toney, |
| sensibilities also were shaped by small | | | | sprawling suburb just outside |
| town America. But it was the summer of | | | | Washington, D.C.Mornings began early |
| my greatest content that formed another | | | | that summer of my eleventh year. I |
| essential dimension of my character.In | | | | eagerly rose with the sun that seemingly |
| 1955, Oxen Hill, Maryland was a place | | | | covered all the sky in Oxen Hill. |
| where the sacred silence was | | | | |