He was using a cane and was moving very slowly. The journalist then approached the old man for an interview.“Pardon me, Sir, I’m Rebecca Smith fro... CNN. What’s your name?”“Morris Feinberg,” he replied.“Sir, may I ask how long have you been coming to the Western Wall and praying?”“For about sixty years.”“Sixty years! That’s amazing! What do you pray for?”“I pray for peace between the Christians, Jews and the Muslims.“I pray for all the wars and all the hatred to stop.“I pray for all our children. Hopefully, the next time we saw people we could make friendly contact with them, but we could not assume that to be the norm. We were still going to have to spend some time in marinas, if not in the towns themselves, so we were going to have to be extra vigilant. That evening, Jess mentioned trying to find a machine gun. Any sort of automatic weapon would be helpful, but a regular Army machine gun in .30 or .50 caliber would make life a whole lot safer for all of us.Unfortunately, none of us. " You were that bad?" Oh, I was more than bad, trust me. You should have seen me at Woodstock. I was a maniac back then." Sounds like you missed those days." Not so much now. It's not like I could go back in time and relive those days. Of course, I wouldn't mind doing that right now." Really? Well, how about we continue our talk someplace more cozy? Continue your trip down memory lane with less people around." You live around here?" Just a few blocks, if you don't mind the walk." Hey, man I may. Though the only person that could have been invading my privacy was Marla, who knew my secret, so ingrained was this habit that I still hid the novel."Hi," she said, poking her face through. "What'ya doin? Watchin TV?" Yeah," I answered, giving her a wink and holding up the corner of my book for her to see.She grinned. "I see," she said. "Listen, I'm gettin kinda tired. Late night last night you know. Do you mind if I join you back here for a little nap?"Join me for a nap? Was she serious? She.