Each evening at supper there might be four or five of the day's events recounted at the table- a hawk flew overhead; a motorcycle roared down the street; a friend moved away- all to be forgotten within days of the telling. But some occurrences are recalled fifty years gone that, at first glance, seem as unimportant as all the others. Do we remember them because the small incidents of our lives shape us the most, the ones that linger as if the decades had not passed by at all? That is the premise of these "damn near true remembrances" unearthing the elements of one son's coming of age in the spirited era between World War 2 and Apollo 11. The bonds we form with mothers and fathers most certainly shape who we become, but other interactions also guide the sculptor's hand. Contributing characters appearing in our own origin stories include the city we grew up in, the religion we experienced, and the weight of our extended families. The author casts two additional "characters" woven throughout his chronicle: The United States Marine Corps, and the omnipresence of alcohol. Sometimes humor can turn so suddenly it leaves us in the midst of a laugh, and we catch up only to find ourselves in the grip of some other, darker emotion, yet grief or discord can expose the humor inherent in the folly of our own importance. These unexpected moments can reveal a dormant truth, divulging secrets we may have kept even from ourselves.

The author takes us along on his river of return and finds that not only has some of the scenery changed, the view is quite different heading back upstream. A caution: Peering into one man's journey may lead to pondering your own Small Incidents.