Delcina came to us in the 1970's when I was a sick boy in NJ, suffering from tourette syndrome. The link for 'Popi & Patches' (Jersey Profanum) is an emotional look back at my childhood with the three people who rescued me - my parents Louis and Brenda and then, the immortal Delcina who became my second mother and caretaker. But more than that, she connected us as a family for the next 35 years up until her death in 2012. I was always a writer as a boy and when the page was blank, in what feels a thousand years ago into that Past, I could never have known, I would spend most of my adult life trying to finish a tale about the Jamaican woman who showed me, such love. Her patience for a sick child displaying such horrid symptoms was a blessing as was, the love and adoration from my parents. Together, we shared a most thrilling life in NJ and Vermont where my folks bought the family house and land, I still write on today.

The novel 'Delcina's Tree' was born from a dream decades ago about Delcina swimming in a Jamaican cove, surrounded by fish nibbling at her affectionately and a seedling found in the sand. Soon after, a novella was written that oddly enough was considered for press, by Oprah's company at the time HARPO. The story was never finished, however, and for the next ten years, I wrote and re-wrote up to her passing and finally put the ebook on Amazon in Kindle version. After a recent trip to Florida seeing her husband and daughters and grandkids, I ended up re-writing major portions of the story again between Ft. Lauderdale and Orlando, riding the train between those cities and editing the entire way. I removed the ebook, printed it as a paperback and now offer it to the public. Strange trip its been, so they say with this story begging for so much attention all these years. For what it is worth, I did my best to tell a tale I hope can be somewhat Timeless if not, quietly memorable for some readers. I always say, my mission wasn't to be the greatest writer but an honorable storyteller. There is a difference. In the end, the earth asks some of us to tell a tale She is proud of more than men. For Her, our shared Mother and for the trees on Bausch Lane Hill, did I write this book. To them I say thanks. To Del and my parents, I offer all my love and gratitude.   S.W. Laro 

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