Quite without intention, I have stumbled across this thread and, at this moment, as I try to type, tears are pouring from my eyes as I sing aloud that which I as a preschooler and my mother sang together nearly sixty years ago. Key of F.

To "radriano" (message above dated 02 May 03) I can say only this: I stuttered terribly as a child and sometimes stutter and stammer like there was no tomorrow. My mommy stuttered. My poppy stammered. I would give the sight of both my aged eyes to hear their voices stuttering and stammering away today.

Be not offended, radriano, at a gentle and sweet little song that my mommy's daddy brought back from WWI. Grampa, a stutterer, served with the AEF in Europe and won, thereby, his citizenship as an American. Three Purple Hearts. Bronze Star. Silver Star. He was gassed at Chateau Thierry but kept the 9mm Luger that, the day before, he took off the German officer he killed with his hands.

I still have the Luger and fire it every few years. I still have the stammer and use it periodically, especially when I get excited.

So what offends you, dear soul?

Larry
Dorr MI