ShareTweetThe wind whistled sharply as the sun began to rise on this crisp Sunday morning. John Wilce rolled over from his slumber, having not slept well at all. His night had been dominated with recalling the day before. It had indeed been an event. “Coffee?” He whispered to his sleeping wife, Minerva, who had the blanket over her head in an attempt to warm herself from the frigid temperature of the early frost and cooling weather. “Yeah that’ll be nice. Slap some blocks in the burner too. I am freezing.” She squeaked from beneath the covers. John laughed as he pushed himself up, leaning above her covered body. “Anything for my little princess!” He kissed the blanket where he believed her head would be. He slipped on a trench coat slung over a chair next to the door of their room. She was right. It was rather cold. In the preparation of making a pot of coffee he simply could not rid the remembrances of the day before. He tilted his head sideways as he slipped on his rounded spectacles. A smile overcame him, rather mischievously. The day before his team, The Ohio State University Buckeyes, over off High Street between…
Continue Reading: Sunday Morning Coffee: October 15, 1916
