This little memoir, by Charles Osgood, has been sitting on my shelf for a couple of years and I am so glad I decided to finally read it. It was a quick, light look at an age long gone, seen through the eyes of a nine year old. This is the account of the memories Charles Osgood has from the year he was nine, 1942. Kids could be kids, even as our country was entering WWII. To see the whole review, visit my blog.
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