Don Conroy was larger than life and there was never a room he entered that he left without making his mark. At some point in his life, he passed from… - Pat Conroy

I went looking for the presentation copy of The Boo he had given me in 1970. I had never opened it that I could remember, and I wanted to see if he had signed it. When I opened it, I found these eight words written to me forty-one years ago: "To the lamb who made me, The Boo." These words made my whole writing career worthwhile.

The children of fighter pilots tell different stories than other kids do. None of our fathers can write a will or sell a life insurance policy or fill out a prescription or administer a flu shot or explain what a poet meant.

The tide was a poem that only time could create, and I watched it stream and brim and makes its steady dash homeward, to the ocean.