By Johna Till Johnson
Dawn, 5:45 AM. The morning is calm, clear, and cool. The birds chirp and tweet; otherwise all is silent. Slowly the fingers of the rising sun touch the masts of the sailboats across the water.
A perfect near-summer day.
A perfect start to the morning of Vlad’s birthday, echoing that long-ago Sunday in Prague:
The child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay
That he was, all his life.
And loved well, by many who love him still.
Happy birthday, Vlad!