About the Author
I was eight months old when my mother, due to extreme poverty, had to put my older brother and I into a Catholic institution immediately after World War II. Three years later we were moved to the first of two foster homes. Those were not the best years of our lives. Discipline was harsh, while nurturing and affection, unfortunately was absent. My brother was ten and I was eight when my father was finally allowed custody and brought us home. At the time, he owned a house in downtown Brooklyn, and fortunately for us, it was filled with family members. That second half of my childhood was totally different from the first. During that first half of my childhood, the void left helped me write this story. Though not as tragic as the alternative outcome could have been for our character, Curby, the wonderful nurturing this little boy receives from his adopting parents in this story is the nurturing I wish I could have had.