veteran - News - The Coastal Star2024-03-29T07:18:23Zhttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/feed/tag/veteranBoca Raton: WWII veteran marks 99th birthday with call to protect future generationshttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/boca-raton-wwii-veteran-marks-99th-birthday-with-call-to-protect-2020-05-20T14:00:00.000Z2020-05-20T14:00:00.000ZMary Kate Leminghttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/MaryKateLeming769<div><p style="text-align:center;"><em><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960954655,original{{/staticFileLink}}" target="_blank"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960954655,original{{/staticFileLink}}" class="align-center" alt="7960954655?profile=original" /></a>Arthur Metzger is surrounded by family and friends on a parade through Mizner Park ahead of his 99th birthday. The march, which urged residents and</em> <em>politicians to make the planet better, was Feb. 29, before the coronavirus halted such gatherings. <strong>Photos by Jerry Lower/The Coastal Star</strong></em></p>
<p><strong>By Margie Plunkett</strong></p>
<p><br /> A small group armed with signs such as “Think About the Grandchildren” marched through Mizner Park in late February, singing and chanting to bring attention to how we should leave the world for those who follow. A 99-year-old World War II veteran led the rally, which coincided with his birthday March 3.<br /> Arthur Metzger, in a wheelchair powered by his son, was joined by his family and friends, all supporters of his wish to urge politicians and residents to do what’s right for coming generations.<br /> “We had little ones from 2 years old to 99 — Arthur — singing these songs and carrying the banners,” said Metzger’s wife, Carole Weller. <br /> After all was said and done, Metzger said he hoped the event, with about 50 participants, made an impact “on some of the politicians who were on the borderline.” <br /> The rally was sparked by a family discussion in Metzger’s living room of the environment and other pressing issues that ended in a challenge by Weller to her husband: “What are you going to do about it?” <br /> “He said he was going to get a sign and walk with it,” Weller recalled. “Every one of us perked up and said, ‘What? What do you mean?’ He said, ‘I think we should do something.’<br /> “He was genuinely worried about the world that we brought our children and grandchildren into,” Weller said, adding that they have a blended family of seven children, 11 grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. “It doesn’t matter the cause — they all needed addressing.”<br /> Weller said that looking at Metzger’s past helps explain his wish to make a better world.<br /> He was born in a small town outside Nuremberg, Germany, to a well-to-do family who fled the Nazis in 1936, arriving in New York City practically penniless. Metzger was 15. He finished high school in America, began working and then enlisted in the Army. When officials there found out he wasn’t a U.S. citizen, they naturalized him.<br /> He took part in the landing at Normandy, France, during WWII and went on to fight in France and Germany until the war ended.<br /> “He was a big hero,” Weller said. <br /> Metzger recalled that during his four-year Army stint, he was promoted to lieutenant by the end of the war and was decorated for his service. His decorations and citations included the World War II victory medal, American campaign medal, European African Middle Eastern ribbon with two battle stars and the bronze star.<br /> When Metzger returned to the United States, he became a pioneer in the plastics industry, building a global company called Amco Plastics International in New York. With his background as self-made — knowing what it was like to be practically homeless and penniless — he became a very charitable man, Weller said. He was involved with a long list of issues, including his children’s education, Jewish causes and politics nationally and locally.<br /> Metzger stopped actively working at his company nine or 10 years ago, remaining as chairman of the board for another five years. The company was run by his son, Gary, until about five years ago, when it was sold.<br /> “Arthur was playing tennis, golf and bridge until he was 92,” Weller said, but failing eyesight, Parkinson’s disease and other ailments caught up with him.<br /> Nothing stopped him from leading the rally, however, and trying to make a difference.<br /> “Our hope was that people along the way would see the signs and think, ‘What are they talking about?’” Weller said.<br /> “Maybe it would dawn on them that we should be thinking about our future and what we should do about it. That was the whole idea. We felt it was successful.”</p>
<p style="text-align:center;"><em><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960954680,original{{/staticFileLink}}" target="_blank"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960954680,original{{/staticFileLink}}" class="align-center" alt="7960954680?profile=original" /></a>Arthur Metzger kisses his great-granddaughter Ciena Parisi after the march.</em></p></div>Update: Fundraising ride rolls home after 48 dayshttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/update-fundraising-ride-rolls-home-after-48-days2019-05-29T16:00:00.000Z2019-05-29T16:00:00.000ZThe Coastal Starhttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/TheCoastalStar<div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960875471,original{{/staticFileLink}}" target="_blank"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960875471,original{{/staticFileLink}}" class="align-center" alt="7960875471?profile=original" /></a><em>Featured in the April edition of</em> The Coastal Star<em>, Ray Charley (right) celebrates the end of his cross-country ride with biking partner Roberto Cintron. <strong>Photo provided</strong></em></p>
<p></p>
<p><strong>By Stephen Moore</strong></p>
<p>Part-time Ocean Ridge resident Ray Charley completed the 3,050-mile Ride Across America in Support of Our Veterans bicycle ride on May 18. It was 48 days from San Diego to St. Augustine through deserts, mountains, back roads, cold weather, sweltering heat and thunderstorms. <br /> But to hear Charley reminisce about the challenge, it seems as if he were taking a late-afternoon ride on A1A because he had help — lots of it.<br /> He got spiritual assistance from his wife, Kate, who gave him a necklace with the Lord’s Prayer on it. Roberto Cintron, a fellow rider from Miami, presented him with a bracelet with TGBTG (To God Be The Glory) engraved on it. <br /> He got emotional aid by holding his newborn granddaughter the day before the ride began. He was certain his daughter would give birth after he left on the ride, which would have delayed his seeing the baby for at least 48 days.<br /> But the biggest assistance came from his riding companion Kip Othold. They formed a bond likely to last forever. They rode together, bunked together, wrecked together, laughed together, suffered together and gave each other nicknames.<br /> “I was really fortunate that Kip and I became close friends,” said Charley, who turned 68 during the ride on May 1. “We were lucky that we had the same ideas about how to ride and what we wanted to do on the ride, so it made it really enjoyable — special. We were both saying ‘this isn’t a race, this is a ride, so let’s take our time and enjoy every day.’”<br /> “We were joined at the hip,” said Othold, a 67-year-old retired auditor from Houston. “We were together 24/7 for 48 days. … Most marriages can’t handle that. We got along like brothers. In fact, better than my brother and I get along.”<br /> They took nicknames from the Western series Lonesome Dove. Charley was Woodrow (Call, played by Tommy Lee Jones) and Othold was Gus (McCrae, played by Robert Duvall).<br /> “We were the two older guys riding across the nation,” Charley said, “and we thought this could be our last drive.”<br /> “I had to explain Woodrow to him,” Othold said, “because he had never seen the show.”<br /> They had two minor wrecks — with each other. On the third day, Othold had pulled off the road to check his tire and looked up and saw Charley riding hard toward him with his head down.<br /> “He ran right into me,” Othold said. “He knocked me down and he also went down and hurt his elbow.”<br /> The second wreck occurred when they touched wheels going up a hill. Both went down, and Othold got a gash above his left eye and had to wear a patch for a day. That night Charley came to dinner wearing a patch on his left eye.<br /> “He called it a sympathy patch,” Othold said. “The next day all 14 riders began the day with patches on their left eye.”<br /> “There was not a day that did not offer a challenge,” Charley said. “I loved every moment of it. It was hard. At times I thought ‘what am I doing here?’ and ‘how am I going to get through this?’ but every day we got up and just ran into the day. Every day was a great adventure.<br /> “I probably will put more miles on my bicycle this year than on my car.”<br /> Charley, who with his family owns three Shop ’n’ Save supermarkets in Pennsylvania, was riding for the Troops First Foundation, which helps veterans suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. At ride’s end he presented the group with a check for $73,600. The entire 14-person riding group sponsored by Trans-America Cycling raised approximately $150,000 for various charities.</p>
<p><em>Charley is still taking pledges at <a href="http://www.troopsfirstfoundation.org/raysride">www.troopsfirstfoundation.org/raysride</a>.</em></p></div>Obituary: Marcelino Solis Jr.https://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/obituary-marcelino-solis-jr2013-07-03T19:00:00.000Z2013-07-03T19:00:00.000ZChris Felkerhttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/ChrisFelker<div><p><span> </span>BRINY BREEZES — After a lifetime career at IBM and many years helping to raise four children, Marcelino Solis Jr. found his final days of peace and quiet on a porch at the end of a road. </p>
<p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960456300,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960456300,original{{/staticFileLink}}" class="align-left" width="234" alt="7960456300?profile=original" /></a> “My dad had reached a state of what he called contentfulness,” said Karolyn Baumgartner, Solis’ daughter. “Every day at about 4, he’d go down and sit on the Briny Breezes porch.” </p>
<p> He’d watch the sky, and the pelicans. (The beach was their airport runway, he said.) He’d chat with the neighbors. Baumgartner said her father and her mother, Marie, had discovered the small-town joys of Briny about 13 years go. </p>
<p> Mr. Solis was 80 when he died June 1 of complications of multiple myeloma at Bethesda East Hospital. </p>
<p> Born in New York City on Jan 12, 1933, Mr. Solis was a veteran of the U.S. Air Force. An engineer, he spent 25 years with IBM at the East Fishkill, N.Y., operations until he retired in 1991. </p>
<p> A lover of small-town life, Mr. Solis and his family lived in the small New York hamlet of Hopewell Junction for more than 40 years. </p>
<p> In his later years, Mr. Solis loved giving more attention to the things that eluded him during the years of work and family. An avid history buff, Baumgartner said her father enjoyed woodworking, music, puttering around the house, drinking scotch and reading. He also enjoyed his seven grandchildren. </p>
<p> Mr. Solis was buried June 8 in Hopewell Junction. </p>
<p> Surviving him are Baumgartner, of Bethel, Conn.; his wife, Marie; and three other children: Christopher Solis, of Richfield, Ohio; Margaret Solis, of Kansas City, Mo.; and Jeanny Busacca, of Orlando, Fla. </p>
<p> The family asks that any memorial donations be made to the American Cancer Society.</p></div>Meet Your Neighbor: Gerald Bregmanhttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/meet-your-neighbor-gerald-bregman2013-07-03T18:59:05.000Z2013-07-03T18:59:05.000ZChris Felkerhttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/ChrisFelker<div><p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960455098,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960455098,original{{/staticFileLink}}" width="477" class="align-center" alt="7960455098?profile=original" /></a></p>
<p style="text-align:center;"><em>Army veteran Gerald Bregman of Highland Beach with his service medals.</em></p>
<p style="text-align:center;"><em>Bregman (shown below in <strong>inset</strong> in 1943), landed at Normandy</em></p>
<p style="text-align:center;"><em>with the 7th Armored Division and moved east to block the Nazi surge</em></p>
<p style="text-align:center;"><em>known as the Battle of the Bulge. The Nazis captured him in Belgium,</em></p>
<p style="text-align:center;"><em>and he went home after the Allied victory.</em></p>
<p style="text-align:center;"><span><b>Tim Stepien/The Coastal Star</b></span></p>
<p style="text-align:center;"></p>
<p> Like many members of what Tom Brokaw calls America’s Greatest Generation, Gerald Bregman never felt compelled to discuss his years in the service, including a stint as a prisoner of war. </p>
<p> Even when he returned home in 1945 after the war had ended, Bregman didn’t share a lot of details with his parents. Later, during a successful business career, Bregman hardly spoke about the war, keeping many of the specifics tucked far away from his wife and two sons. </p>
<p> But at 88, Bregman tells the story of his years in the Army with the same pride he has in the medals that he earned decades ago but just received a few years back. He had written to the military asking for the medallions that were overlooked during the chaos following troops’ return from Europe. </p>
<p> “I just feel it’s time I spoke out about my experiences,” he said. </p>
<p><a href="{{#staticFileLink}}7960455275,original{{/staticFileLink}}"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960455275,original{{/staticFileLink}}" width="286" class="align-left" alt="7960455275?profile=original" /></a> A self-proclaimed “Jewish boy from the Bronx,” Bregman was drafted in 1943 and sent to anti-aircraft training but ended up in the infantry as the need for foot soldiers grew. </p>
<p> Along with thousands of others, Bregman landed in Normandy shortly after the D-Day invasion. He spent time in France and the Netherlands before being sent with the 7th Armored Division to Belgium, in December 1944, to take part in the Battle of the Bulge, the bloodiest battle of World War II, in which 19,000 American soldiers lost their lives. The battle also resulted in the largest mass U.S. surrender of the war (although the U.S. ultimately won the battle). </p>
<p> Bregman was among those captured, and he remembers being marched to a nearby train station — with Allied planes dropping bombs all around — where he and other prisoners were packed into cattle cars. </p>
<p> “We were on the train for five days with no food or water,” he said. “We couldn’t even lie down because there were so many guys packed into the car.” </p>
<p> After a short stop at a large prison camp, Bregman was shipped to a rock quarry, where he spent six months breaking rocks from early morning until dark. Though he had warm clothes, Bregman suffered frostbite on his toes and lost close to 80 pounds. Fed only bread and water, he managed to barter for potatoes stolen from the Germans, only to have others in the barracks steal them from him. </p>
<p> Shortly before the war came to an end, Bregman was taken to a rest camp close to a German airfield. He remembers almost being killed twice by friendly fire as British planes bombed the airfield and strafed the surrounding area. </p>
<p> With German soldiers fleeing, the prisoners were free, and Bregman and others were able to walk back to American lines. He was flown back to France and then put on a crowded troop ship and returned to the United States. </p>
<p> After recovering and taking on several jobs, Bregman settled down. He raised his family in suburban New York, where he owned a vending-machine business and later a hardware store. </p>
<p> Today, Bregman, who came to Florida permanently after his wife of more than 50 years died, is enjoying retirement, playing poker and bingo. </p>
<p> He talks easily about everything, from his trips to New England to his trips to the VA clinic not far down the road. Now, he’ll even share stories about his trip to Europe in the 1940s, courtesy of the U.S. Army, tales he kept to himself for decades. </p>
<p><i>— Rich Pollack </i></p>
<p></p>
<p><span class="font-size-3" style="color:#0000ff;"><b>TEN QUESTIONS</b></span></p>
<p><b>Q.</b> Where did you grow up? </p>
<p><span><b>A.</b></span> I grew up in the Bronx and went to local schools, including Stuyvesant High School. I also went to City College. </p>
<p><span><b>Q.</b></span> What are some highlights of your life? </p>
<p><span><b>A.</b></span> Getting married and having two sons and five grandchildren. I had 56 wonderful years with my wife, Marilyn.</p>
<p><span><b>Q.</b></span> How did you choose to make your home in Highland Beach?</p>
<p><span><b>A.</b></span> I came down to stay with my son, who lives in Highland Beach. </p>
<p><span><b>Q.</b></span> What is your favorite part about living in Highland Beach?</p>
<p><span><b>A.</b></span> I enjoy the activities in my condo and living on the beach. </p>
<p><span><b>Q.</b></span> Why didn’t you talk about your WWII experiences for such a long time?</p>
<p><span><b>A.</b></span> I didn’t think people would be interested. I just didn’t feel like talking about it. It wasn’t a pleasant time of my life. I don’t think many veterans found it pleasant to talk about.</p>
<p><span><b>Q.</b></span> What kept you going during those days as a POW?</p>
<p><span><b>A.</b></span> One of the things that kept me going was that I was able to trade cigarettes for potatoes. </p>
<p><span><b>Q.</b></span> What is the biggest lesson you learned from your wartime experience? </p>
<p><span><b>A.</b></span> I learned that I can survive in tough situations. </p>
<p><span><b>Q.</b></span> If someone made a movie of your life, who would you like to play you and why?</p>
<p><span><b>A.</b></span> Don Rickles would be good. He has no hair, like me, and he’s funny. </p>
<p><span><b>Q.</b></span> What music do you listen to when you need inspiration? When you want to relax? </p>
<p><span><b>A.</b></span> Light classical music. </p>
<p><span><b>Q.</b></span> Who/what makes you laugh? </p>
<p><span><b>A.</b></span> Comedians and funny movies. I also enjoy my own comedy moments.</p></div>Meet your neighbor: Ed Manleyhttps://thecoastalstar.com/profiles/blogs/meet-your-neighbor-ed-manley2009-07-02T16:30:00.000Z2009-07-02T16:30:00.000ZMary Kate Leminghttps://thecoastalstar.com/members/MaryKateLeming769<div><p style="text-align:left;"><img src="{{#staticFileLink}}7960274464,original{{/staticFileLink}}" alt="" height="360" width="252" /></p>
<p><em>Caption: Briny Breezes resident and 101st Airborne Infantry Division, 502nd Parachute Battalion veteran Ed Manley returned to Normandy on the 50th anniversary of D-Day, June 6, 1994, to jump again.</em><br /> <br /> <br /> Through good, bad and worse, he’s lived life ‘full tilt’<br /> Ed Manley grew up in a foster home because his father was dead and his mother was too poor to take care of him. She visited him on weekends.<br /> He learned life the hard way, he says: on the streets. But he has no complaints and considers himself a lucky guy.<br /> Don’t get old. That’s his maxim.<br /> Just add a good-sized dollop of luck, and there you have it — the path that Manley, 87, follows.<br /> At 20, he signed up as an army paratrooper, and was assigned to 502nd Parachute Battalion. It was re-designated 502nd Parachute Infantry Regiment and joined by the 101st Airborne Infantry Division in September 1942.<br /> With his regiment, he participated in three major battles during the war: the Battle of Normandy, June 6, 1944; Operation Market Garden in Holland, Sept. 17, 1944; and the Battle of the Bulge, Dec. 17, 1944, in Bastogne against the German Ardennes Offensive.<br /> For D-Day, he was part of an 11-man team whose objective was to blow up four coastal cannons overlooking Omaha Beach. In September, the 502nd made its second drop in Holland; its mission was to seize roads, bridges and a key communication city, Eindhoven. In December, the 101st Airborne was ordered to Bastogne. While the 101st was fighting the Fifth Panzer Army, the 502nd held positions to the north and northwest portions of the envelopment. Manley was wounded in Bastogne on Jan. 3, 1945, captured and held at Stalag 12A for four and a half months before he escaped.<br /> Manley received two Bronze Stars — from Normandy and Bastogne, a Purple Heart and two presidential citations. He’s still a lucky guy, he says. Just two months ago, he underwent a triple bypass. He taps his chest. “I heal fast. Nothing there.”<br /> His doctors wouldn’t let him stay home alone after the operation. As luck would have it, some new friends offered to take him in.<br /> “At their place, the whole back wall is glass,” he said. “I look at their swimming pool, grass, trees and all the foliage. What are the odds of that?”<br /> At 87, he looks at life with gusto. Live life full tilt, be a participant. And when the end comes, he wants his ashes dropped in the Gulf Stream. “I’m taking the cheap seats back to Ireland,” he says. “My family and friends can spend the money on a party.”<br /> — Christine Davis<br /> <br /> <b>Q.</b> Where did you grow up and go to school? How do you think that has influenced you?<br /> <b>A.</b> I was born in 1921. My dad died two months before I was born, and my mother was an orphan. She lived with showgirls and was the only one with a steady job — she put the food on the table. She got walk-ons on different Broadway shows, and that would get her $5. She shipped me out to a babysitter in New Jersey from the time I was 3 until I was old enough to go the Gould Foundation’s home in Harlem. I lived at the group home from when I was 5 until I was 11 years old. Then, my mother married my stepdad, and they took me out of the home. I went to Bayside High School in Bayside, Long Island.<br /> I had to learn to be streetwise when I was at the home in Harlem. On Saturdays, all the kids from the home had 15 cents for the movies. The street kids knew it. On the way to the movies, I wandered away from my group, and this 13-year-old boy cut me four or five inches across the leg with a strap razor, but I was carrying a broken Coke bottle and buried it in his solar plexus. They took me home, cleaned me up and I went to the movies. On D-Day, we were an 11-man team and we were supposed to blow up four coastal cannons overlooking Omaha Beach. We were dropped eight miles from the location. I wound up being the point man to draw fire. The sergeant in charge wanted me to walk down this road. I took a few steps and saw there was no place to hide. Because of my street training, I decided I was going to walk behind the hedges, but the hedges didn’t start for 50 feet, so I walked a few feet, and I did a 90 degrees. My thinking was, if he shot me for diverting, he’d have to be the point man.<br /> He followed the road. After I bypassed a T-intersection. I heard firing. I ducked through and saw the sergeant in a ditch firing his automatic, actually dueling with two Germans with Mauser rifles. One of the Germans was kneeling and the other was standing and they were taking turns firing at him. I picked them off. They were my first kill. The sergeant and I became best friends. How I grew up helped me a lot in circumventing things that the average youngster would walk into. I could see that stuff before I got there.<br /> <b>Q.</b> What is your strongest memory of the war?<br /> <b>A.</b> Watching guys that I couldn’t help. I was in three different invasions, in France, Holland and Bastogne. In Holland in particular, I had a friend who was 10 feet away from me. I tried to help him three or four different times, but the German machine guns kept me back and I watched him die. And at Stalag 12A: On Jan. 3, 1945, 240 of us, the D and F companies, went in (to Bastogne) and the Germans shot up our whole unit. Only 22 of us came out. If you couldn’t walk, the Germans — they were SS — shot you. They only took three of us who were wounded. I was the most wounded. I was a prisoner for four and a half months, and during that time, I had not received medical attention. I’m a very fortunate guy; the lice kept my wounds open. Hitler was going to make a human wall around Berlin and the Germans were going to use us as a buffer against the American advances, and one day, while they were marching us there, six of us escaped. Five of us made it through the lines.<br /> <b>Q.</b> What advice do you have for a young person selecting a career today?<br /> <b>A.</b> Work for the government. It’s the only steady job that you can get. If you are capable of going military, go military.<br /> <b>Q.</b> After the war, what did you do?<br /> <b>A.</b> When I first came home, I didn’t work for a year. For the first 52 weeks, I got $20 a week. I became even better at darts and with a cue, which I learned while I was based in England for our 11 months training for D-Day. Other than that, I’ve worked all my life. Then I took the New York state police test. While I was waiting to get in, I worked security at the Belmont Race Track.<br /> While I was working for the state police, for extra money, I also worked as a flag man directing traffic in civilian clothes, because, by then, I had children.<br /> Then I became a runner for a concrete company, dealing with their truckers. I worked on a tanker on the Great Lakes. I was a lumber salesman and a theater manager.<br /> My wife, Dorothy Ann, died 25 years ago. I have three kids: James Edward, 53, Kimberly Ann, 51, and Scott, 49. Scott’s the guy now. He was a hard rock guitar player and he’s now a pastor in a church in Washington State.<br /> <b>Q.</b> How did you end up in Briny Breezes?<br /> <b>A.</b> When my wife passed away, I had a 24-foot sailboat, and I’d come to Florida from Ocean City, Md., in November. I’d take my boat out of the lagoon, and fuel the boat up. A guy there found out I was on my way to Florida, and he told me to give him a jingle when I got to Boynton Beach. So, I pulled in to Two Georges, and I’m having a beer, and called him up. He told me to come under the bridge, and he’d wave me down.<br /> I had no intention of buying, but we walked across to the ocean and I saw Briny and I asked, “How do you get one of these things? And I bought the lot for $15,000. My lot in Delaware cost me $10,000.<br /> They don’t come any luckier than me. Even when I got shot, it went through my leg, and didn’t harm any major bones or blood vessels.<br /> <b>Q.</b> What is your favorite part about living in Briny?<br /> <b>A.</b> I don’t want to sell. Where will you find a place like this? I have the ocean, and dockage when I need it.<br /> <b>Q.</b> What book are you reading now?<br /> <b>A.</b> I never read. I made a book report on Treasure Island three times. Swashbucklers — that was my trip. I have to live it myself. I want to be participant and I’m a hell of an adviser. I don’t go in partially. I go in full tilt.<br /> <b>Q.</b> What music do you listen to when you need inspiration? When you want to relax?<br /> <b>A.</b> The big bands. I like to dance. I like good music. I’m not big on vocals. I’m not a Frank Sinatra fan. I like instrumentation.<br /> <b>Q.</b> If your life story were made into a movie, who would you want to play you?<br /> <b>A.</b> Me.<br /> <b>Q.</b> Who or what makes you laugh?<br /> <b>A.</b> Life in general. I laugh every day. I can see humor. If you can’t, it’s so depressing. You have to laugh.</p></div>