I’ve been whining of late, in this venue, regarding my lack of funds, a decent transportation vehicle, lack of guns, health ISSUES, in other words, me, me, ME!
How shallow and self-centered of me. Seriously.
I’ve had two brothers. One, a step-brother, lives a short distance away, was pre-eminent in his field (is now retired), and is a truly fine human being. But, we have no real relationship.
Why, you ask?
Because he is 12 years older than I and we have absolutely nothing in common, except we lived in the same house for a year or so, after my Dad remarried. He, in college, me, in the third grade.
You see the problem?
The other brother remains unnamed. Why? Well, I only found out about him a couple of years ago. You see, I am a twin, and my brother didn’t survive. And my parents never told me about him.
Fast-forward to this past weekend. I’m fumbling around here, trying to get computers to work and get on-line long enough to post on this blog, with limited success.
And I didn’t get to read many other blogs, as I usually do, daily.
I missed word from Brigid that her brother ‘Big Bro’ had passed away, after his long battle with cancer. He was a U.S. Navy veteran, a motorcyclist, and a fine man. How do I know this? He’s her brother, how could he not be?
Please say a prayer for her and her family, if that’s what you do.
And take time to remember brothers everywhere – named and unnamed.
My roommate has almost always had multiple dogs and/or cats. And especially chihuahuas.
I’ve never been a big fan of tiny dogs, but her dogs have been great! Sadly, we lost Crosby at age 19 a few months ago.
Roomie has been shopping for ‘someone’ to replace her spot in the pack. Yesterday afternoon, we got a rescue dog -
She’s hysterical! Non-stop prancing and dancing and playing! And wanting to play with the dog in the mirror. The other girl dog is a little jealous; the cat wary (she wants to play with the cat, who usually hisses in response!). But the lummox boy dog loves her!
And so do we!
Yesterday was the anniversary of the accident.
Had she lived, she would be 31. Instead, she is permanently 12.
She was a terrific kid, blossoming into a terrific young woman. Smart, funny, aware, and a good citizen.
I love you and miss you Molly.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
IF YOU TAKE NOTHING ELSE FROM TODAY’S POST, GO AND HUG AND KISS THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE, AND TELL THEM YOU LOVE THEM.
BECAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW…
(and no place for comments today – you’ve all been kind enough, thank you! - Guffaw)
Roomie and I return from a short trip the other day, and were met by a cat outside the back gate. We already have a cat. She doesn’t play well with others. Or us.
HOWEVER, THIS new cat was friendly and welcomed affection. She appeared to be well cared for, and either had recently had surgery or given birth. (this due to the appearance of a floppy undercarriage.) We opted not to feed and water her, lest she stay and disrupt the ecosystem of our home.
AND, she’s more likely to go home if we don’t offer treats.
So much for THAT idea!
She’s been hanging around outside, making the inside cat VERY upset. There have been a few faux battles – save the Arcadia door glass in the way. Lots of yowling and hissing from the indoor car. And, the girl chihuahua treed her in the back yard, barking viciously the entire time. (As vicious as a chihuahua can be, under the circumstances.)
Roomie keeps making noises about getting a kitten. Considering the indoor car is clamoring for more attention and acting more lovable in the outdoor cats presence, this could happen.
If the girl chihuahua doesn’t stroke out, first. The boy chihuahua is just a big stupid lummox who doesn’t care as long as he gets food and attention.
For better or worse, the interloper stayed two days and then apparently went home.
h/t Warner Bros.
The Silicon Graybeard (and many others on the ‘Net) reminded me tonight is the 50th anniversary of the Beatles performing on Ed Sullivan. Their big American break.
A real snooze for me.
1) I was into classical music – popular music (like Rock and Roll) just didn’t do it for me. And, I had memories of my Dad ranting about Elvis (and my Sister, the Bobby Soxer, fawning over him) years earlier.
2) My Dad’s rant continued regarding The Beatles long hair. “Unkempt, unclean, like a beatnik”, etc.
AND 3) (most important) being a 6th Grader, I was extremely jealous of the 6th Grade girls fawning all over these British invaders! What was so special about them, anyway?
Of course, regardless of my and other Dad’s rants, they went on to super stardom and changing the face of music forever.
Used to be there was a derisive term for classical music – longhair music. Obviously that went out of favor!
My good friend Old NFO discussed this most recent of ‘infamous’ drug deaths. I was reminded of the PBS Series on JAZZ. They’d mention some historic jazz figure, and then, more often than not came this line:
…and then, they died of an overdose…
Is it the artistic personality, fame, fortune or humanity which binds all these folks together? Are we all, at our core, addicts of some sort? (Wikipedia – List of Drug/Alcohol related deaths)
I come rife with an addictive personality. I have excess weight, due to compulsive overeating. I’m neurotic, but not particularly artistic. My real mother died when I was in grade school as a direct result of her cigarette addiction. She had emphysema. ( I remember her turning off the oxygen tank and lighting up!) My father was an alcoholic, ate too much and smoked cigars. I come by my addictions honestly. Even though I’m getting ‘help’ for my addictions, in all seriousness, I don’t expect to see 85, like my maternal grandfather did. My fraternal grandfather made it to 68. My own father to 61.
Today is my daughter’s birthday. She would have been 31. Auto accident, age 12.
At least it wasn’t drugs or alcohol. :-(
Back-in-the-day, when I was gainfully employed and less disabled, I worked as a fraud investigator for (T)hat (M)ajor (C)redit (C)ard (C)ompany – aka TMCCC for short. I also worked part time at a local firearms emporium for a couple years.
This usually consisted of a couple hours on a weekday afternoon (after TMCCC) and Saturdays, 10 – 5. It was great fun, I learned a lot, and met many nice folks. And a few @$$h013$ !
On Saturdays, a retired car-dealership owner from Colorado would come in, bearing day-old doughnuts, and his custom holster making skills. (I have three! A field holster and IWB holster for N Frame Smiths (Seriously) and an IWB for Browning High-Power!) Later on, like Noon or 1 PM, the store manager would buy a few pizzas for the staff.
And the hangers-on.
The hangers-on were called ‘the GOBs’, which stood for good-old-boys. These consisted of a couple retired cops, a preacher or two, some hunters, a retired fireman, teachers, a prosecutor, a prison psychiatrist, and a few out-of-work gun shop guys. All of whom felt they could offer free advice to customers.
Which was sometimes incorrect and sometimes not welcomed!
But, we at the shop put up with them. Why. Because of the comradery they brought, their knowledge and friendship.
And because they were mostly armed and acted as defacto security guards for free. Well, not free. For donuts and pizza!
And, they were regular customers, sometimes buying outright, sometimes on layaway.
With my crummy car, I don’t get across town as much as I’d like, as a result I don’t get to see the GOBs as much as I’d like.
I miss them.
Today is my Big Bro’s Birthday! Happy Birthday, Joe!
As he is 12 years my senior, we never bonded as siblings very much. My Dad married my Stepmother and we moved into her house with her almost grown children. (I’ve also a stepsister, Karen, who lives with her retired Army LTC in Alaska. I’ve written of him in these pages.)
He, much like my Father was, is a sports nut. I don’t think he’s as obsessed as my Father was, though. He’s always kept in shape, and looks great considering his age. I’m certain that’s because he still plays sports and is very active. He spends Summers back in Illinois at a relative’s place ‘working the farm’.
Not exactly a Summer a couch-potato like myself aspires to!
He followed his Mother into elementary education, and retired a few years ago after years of teaching the 6th Grade, predominately Math. Had to have been a labor of love, right?
I’ll always be grateful to him. When we moved into my Stepmother’s home, everyone had to double-up. My sister’s shared a room, and my brother and I shared a room. As a newly-minted Third Grader I liked it. I cannot image my college man brother appreciating it, though!
But, he never complained, at least to me. We spent many a Friday night watching TV together (Friday Night in 1960-61 was replete with Westerns!) and sharing a bag of potato chips.
And he spent many of the past twenty years caring for his mother in her declining years. I admire him for his selflessness.
Happy Birthday, Joe!
Tonight is New Year’s Eve! (for those who just crawled out from under a rock where there was no Wi-Fi.)
The traditional celebration of the passing of the previous year, and the birth of the new. Along with fond remembrance of times past. This usually involves food and sometimes libations.
Please be careful out there, and if you drink, don’t drive (or text or phone!) And watch out for those who have.
And take a moment to remember those who are no longer with you. And love those who remain.
Because you never know…
(courtesy of The Feral Irishman) I wish I had THIS Elf On The Shelf!
And lest we forget those who gave us the gift of their full measure of their devotion…