<p>This story highly fabricated though is is written around my childhood understanding of a significant singular incident in the life of my paternal grandfather.</p><p>Because of my grandfather's life in London on the Canadian prairies and in Toronto I am here and writing this story about an unsung hero a most ordinary man. I dedicate this book to him Harry Westley a mudlark of sorts who loved meadowlarks... and to the memory of his son my father Frank.</p>