Harry Buschman

First of all I’m a nonagenarian as of last April – too old to be learning new things and probably too old to be giving advice as well. But never too old to tell stories about the way things used to be.

I’m a widower with two past middle age daughters, both of them in medical research – one in Florida and the other in Canada. I live alone in a house that was once full of life and love. Somehow it doesn’t seem right to leave it.

I grew up in the Bed/Stuy area of Brooklyn, New York. It was a tenement area, a slum if you will. But we didn’t know it was a slum. It was home to us. I joined the US army when Hitler moved into Poland and saw a good part of the world until I resigned in 1945. All this has led to a lifetime of experiences, which by the grace of God I still remember.

Using these experiences, I have written hundreds of short stories. I’ve been fortunate to have one hard cover book published in Europe and used as a textbook in English speaking schools in the Balkans. I’ve also appeared in a half dozen anthologies in England, Canada and US.

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