|About the Book|
This is not a documentary history or a strictly scholarly autobiography but a verbal trip down Jack Crandalls memory lane. It is a chronological narrative of my experiences as I perceive them now. It inevitably contains embellishments which stemMoreThis is not a documentary history or a strictly scholarly autobiography but a verbal trip down Jack Crandalls memory lane. It is a chronological narrative of my experiences as I perceive them now. It inevitably contains embellishments which stem from the fact that it is an egocentric enterprise and, at times, an urge to be literary if not always literal. I have not written fiction. The characterization of persons living or dead applies to real persons and is not coincidental. As the writing progressed I began to realize that this exercise held intrinsic benefits and values for the writer whether or not anyoneelse - children, grandchildren, et. al. ever perused these typewritten pages. Such a realization squares with the claims of certain gerontologists who contend that a Life Review has a therapeutic value. I tend to shrink from the notion of equating this activity with therapy since I feel compelled to deny a felt need for therapeutic treatment. Nevertheless I must admit from traveling down memory lane a positive effect on my self-perception, an effect that can best be described as a paradoxical combination of a greater sense of humility and pride, augmented by a sharpened sense of gratitude for the many blessings I have received from family and friends.If it seems to accentuate the positive its because there are so many positive things to accentuate. As my writing progressed I began to think that an appropriately accurate subtitle should be A Series of Fortuitous Developments. Last summer, while conversing with Jills nephew, Chris Carlson, I told him that this exercise was making me realize how blessed I have been. He startled me by saying, Would you say that youve lived a charmed life? (his tone indicated that he thought so). I cannot avoid an affirmative answer to that question.As the narrative unfolded and the recounting of events moved along I found much that was satisfying and pleasant to recall, little to regret. I realize that that statement smacks of smugness, but I hasten to add that I do not regard myself as the author of the fulfillments, the happiness and successes that have marked my life. With a different set of families and friends it could have been quite otherwise.I close this protracted preface by registering the hope that some of my descendants will get some fraction of the pleasure in reading about my life that I have enjoyed in living it - and writing about it.