More Mom….
I am wearing my Grandma’s purple sweater today because that was my Grandma’s favorite color. When I think about the color purple I picture a precious little Gem. I think that everyone that knew her would agree with me 100% that this is just a small piece of how you could describe my Grandmother Margaret.
Besides having a heart of gold, she was the kindest, caring and most giving person I have met. She is beautiful, intelligent, charismatic, loyal, honest, fun loving and loved by anyone who has ever crossed her path.
How could you not admire a Grandma who possesses all of these fine qualities? The one thing that I admire most about her is her love for everyone else. No matter what, Grandma always had enough love to fill the entire room with Joy and Happiness. Her smile and presence could turn a big frown upside down within seconds. No matter what the situation Grandma would always put everyone else before herself.
There may be one small thing that we disagreed upon through the years and that would be her cooking. It was always a treat to have a meal that was home cooked by Grandma. No matter what she cooked everything on the table was delicious. Even her icky biscuits! Icky you say……………that is what Grandma called them but everyone else who has ever had her biscuits would say how fabulous they are.
Having been on a farm with the biggest garden in Arran Elderslie, there was never a time that there were not fresh vegetables being served with your meal. Being the kind hearted Grandma that she is she thought that maybe it was time for a change. She surprised Brian, Kim and I with a pizza from the grocery store. Not that us kids didn’t appreciate the healthy food but we all jumped for joy for pizza. There was just one small problem! Grandma had forgotten to take the cardboard piece off the bottom of the pizza before it had gone into the oven! With the oven up in smoke we saw the disappointed look on Grandma’s face but ate it all anyway because we know that she would do the same for us.
Grandma also had a bit of a competitive side to her. If it wasn’t UNO or Euchre she was playing she was whipping everyone’s butt in Crochono. I have never seen someone that can pot so may 20 pointers in a row! She would then sometimes giggle, “I can’t really even see what I am doing”! Another fun family game usually played at Christmas was spoons. This lady had the reflexes of a cat and the funniest comments when it came time for her to grab the spoon! Grandma and Grandpa always seemed to get a little spoiled at Christmas. When you would bring another present to set at Grandma’s feet she would say,” Goodness sake that one is not for me I already have one, even though it had her name written all over it!
Thank goodness my Grandma had the wonderful talent of knitting and crocheting. Because of her we all had warm hands and feet with the mittens and slippers she would make us. For every jacket I own, I now have a pair of matching mittens. Not to mention the beautiful quilts and her never ending collection of little finger puppets!
Grandma also had quite the use of vocabulary. If she thought that her food was not tasty, a little dry or just not quite right she would say, “This stupid pie, those stupid potatoes”. If you asked for something to be passed to you at the dinner table she would say, “Oh you don’t want that, it is stupid”. If she thought that something was too classy it was called “Swanky”. I never heard Grandma curse but if she had a cuss word it was “Oh Poofidy”. This word was used usually when she was playing cards or someone would beat her in cards (Grandpa)!!!.
No matter what Grandma and Grandpa always made time for their Grandchildren. Whether it was an hour in the day or a weekend sleepover it was always a pleasure to visit. Grandma never wanted to be an inconvenience to anyone. Although she did love our visits she always thought that there was something better going on than for us grandkids to be at the Care Center. You would just be getting settled in ready for a nice visit and she would say. “Well you better get going you must have other things you should be doing”! Sometimes you would have to get a little stubborn and tell her you are there to visit whether she likes it or not! Nothing could be better then getting to spend time with your Grandma and Grandpa. This always resulted in a good laugh and a big smile.
I know that you are watching over us and I want to let you know what an impact you have had on all of our lives. You have touched everyone who has met you in some way or another. I want you to know how much we love you and how much you will be missed. I am glad that we have so many wonderful memories of you. I am the luckiest girl in the world that I can call you “My Grandma”. ALISON
I woke up this morning thinking about your mother. She was a wonderful woman. I have a picture frame of pictures from one of Greg’s first visits to the farm over my desk which includes one of her holding Greg on the front porch. What a treasure of memories I have about the farm and your mother and father. I know that summer vacations didn’t mean anything else to us except for the two weeks in Port Elgin. The other picture that I have on my desk is a picture of Dad swinging on the old swing outside of the farm house. We all grew up knowing that being on the farm with you folks was the closest to heaven as we could get and Dad was truly happy when he was there.
I take away many important lessons from your mother and father. Aunt Margaret always let you know that you were welcome and that you were special visitors. She always took a minute sometime during your visit to whisk you aside, whether it was as you were in your room packing up to leave the next morning, or doing the final sink of dishes before you got in the car to let you know that she was so thankful you could come down and spend time with her. She was so open with her feelings and had the perfect words to let you know them. When Mom was so sick that she had to live in Thunder Bay for nine months, Aunt Margaret told her that she wished Carol lived closer so that she could take care of her. Those simple words meant so much to Mom as at that point the thought of being taken care of was exactly what she wanted to hear. Aunt Margaret, on my visit just after my grandmother died, took time over a cup of tea to tell me how much she loved Marguerite like a sister and then told me how much I remind her of my grandmother. And anytime Dad was feeling lonely after Grandma died or Mom got sick, he would phone down there and talk to Hank and Margaret. Who could forget the excitement the afternoon that a bonfire was planned? Or getting to name the calves in the barn each year when we were down with Uncle Hank and then getting to drag Aunt Margaret into the barn to introduce the calves to her. Aunt Margaret also taught me that I could never be a farm wife as she would always have more work done by the time we northern folks got to the breakfast table than we would do in a day at home!! From Uncle Hank, I learnt the power of a properly administered hug … no one could hug you like my Uncle Hank. Aunt Margaret continued to be a gracious hostess even when they moved to town. Greg and I enjoyed staying in the “bedroom apartment” in the garage, though Aunt Margaret kept running out to check on us for the first half a night. I will never forget the card games of Uno that we shared with Pearl and Wally, Aunt Margaret and Uncle Hank, and any other relatives that wandered through that night.
Now we are without two very important people… how difficult it is to deal with the loss of both my father and Aunt Margaret. I am truly cried out. However, I have been talking to Greg about the “good old days” and being a good kid he has been patient with my ramblings over photo albums and my memory strolls around the farm, and through my childhood. Through his comments, and my volumes of stories I have come to realize how blessed we all were to be important to such truly wonderful people. (Cheryle)
Don’t Cry
Don’t cry upon my passing
I’ve lived a long and satisfying life
I have raised four beautiful children
And was glad to be a wife
My life was full of memories
I shared with each of you
So do not cry upon my passing
Remembering will keep you from feeling blue
My stories will live on forever
Or as long as you allow them to
So wipe away those weeping tears
And remember I love you
You were always more than relatives
The best was you were my friend
I looked forward to your visits
And the cards that you would send
On this day of mourning
Think not of pain and sorrow
For I am watching over you
Today and all tomorrows
This day should be of celebration
Remembering what used to be
For I have always cherished you
As much as you have cherished me
I will always be there
Nightly when you pray
So don’t cry upon my passing
We’ll be together again someday
I leave you with a small request
For all who shared my life
Please watch over my dear beloved
My love, my world, my life
Life is for the living
Memories should never die
Think back on all the time we’ve shared
And remember, please don’t cry
Grandma we will miss you
You will always be near
In our thoughts and in our hearts you will always be right here. (Andy)
After Glow
I’d like the memory of me to be a happy one;
I’d like to leave an afterglow of smiles When life is done.
I’d like to leave an echo whispering softly down the ways
of happy times
and laughing times
and bright and sunny days.
I’d like the tears of those who grieve
To dry before the sun
of happy memories that I leave when life is done.
from Aunt Margaret’s journal
Mom
“…….we’re trying to put together a family memories thing for Mom’s service. Do you have anything you’d like to share? I spent most of my early days with Dad and I was as we all know very self-absorbed so have really no idea what was going on around the perimeter of my little circle of vanity…….”
The little blurb above from my sister made me laugh. All of us were very self absorbed while growing up. Mom was always in the background, busy busy busy, but gently steering us in the right directions, even if we didn’t know it. We’ve received many beautiful comments from family and friends who were lucky to have had our mom in their lives. Here’s a few in random order, not mentioning their authors, and hoping no one takes offense at my making their private messages a little more public.
I am so sorry to hear this, your mother was one of the kindest, nicest people I knew, she will be missed a great deal, it seemed like Aunt Margaret has always been around, and I always looked forward to seeing her and your dad.
I am so sorry for your loss…..
“Thank you so much for keeping me posted when there were many others to call and update.
Thank you for sharing your mom with so many of us who knew what an incredible woman, mother, aunt, sister and friend she was to so many.
Thank you for showing the rest of us how real love in a family is shown.
Thank you for the wonderful memories I have of spending time with all of you when I was growing up for I have some powerfully loving memories of your home.
Please know that we will miss your mom with all of our hearts. If there is anything we can do down in these parts please don’t hesitate to ask (and I mean that).
I’m so sorry to hear about your Mom. I’ll always remember her energy and enthusiasm. I’m sure your dad will find this really hard.
I am so sorry to hear about Aunt Margaret’s passing! She was such a beautiful, kind, and caring person. Aunt Margaret was certainly a favourite of mine as is your Dad. I still use the quilt she gave me as a wedding gift and I think of her as I cuddle up in it. I remember how much I treasured that quilt after I received it and I decided to keep it in my cedar chest for safe keeping. One summer she and Uncle Hank came up for a visit and I pulled it out and spread it on my bed. Well the smell of cedar was definitely noticeable! Aunt Margaret, with her cute little smile and giggle was understanding of my desire to not let anything happen to it. However, it made me realize how silly it is to preserve treasures and for whom am I saving it for. So I have been using it ever since and I must say it is getting well worn out…I think people refer to that as well-loved! How is Uncle Hank? Wish him well and thanks for letting me know about your MOM.
Take care!
So sorry to hear of your Mom’s passing. Even when its expected, its still very sad.
>
> One of my earliest and warmest memories was a meal she cooked at the farm,
> one of the biggest meals I had ever seen. I might have been six or seven.
> When I saw her last, she had scarcely changed . . .
I can understand your feelings of sorrow and at the same time acceptance; and I remember saying good bye to my own Mother as she lay sleeping in her bed at the care centre. I knew she would not make it through the night.
Dad passed away May 22, 1989 so this time of year is always difficult for me even still. I am writing this with tears in my eyes, for both of us. I know your Dad will miss her terribly and he will realize that she is gone. They truly loved each other and it is wonderful that they had 65 years together.
So what memories can another self absorbed daughter contribute to these touching comments? We never doubted that she loved us and that family came first – but her family was huge, and ultimately included every person she ever met. Everyone was welcomed into her home. Everyone was fed. Our summers on the farm I think are my fondest memories of growing up because that’s when we had aunts and uncles and cousins from all over the place who dropped by, or stayed for awhile, or spent their entire vacations with us. I remember the many family picnics at the beach, in parks, or just on our own front lawn. And the enormous bonfires after all the kids had spent the afternoon gathering brush and deadfall into a great pile. I remember her being always incredibly busy, always doing something, and working hard, and then sitting down to play a game, to relax and talk and laugh. Her laughter was a beautiful thing to hear. I remember her animation and her joy. Mom had a gift for discovering the good in each person, and dewelling on that. She was able to stay positive and look on the brightest side of things, to the point of making me a little crazy, and ashamed of my nit-picking and ranting over little things. Above all she was always there for every one of us. She encouraged our independence and she let us make our own mistakes. But she never failed to help us pick up the pieces when we needed her help. If I’ve been a faithful wife, a good parent, a non-intrusive mother-in-law and loving grandma, it’s because I learned it from her example.
AI Top 2, Finale
I didn’t watch the final three, I didn’t see Syesha leave, or anything after that at all for this season of American Idol. It started out well, and looked so promising, with one of the best lineups of talent they’ve ever had. And no complete duds amongst them for a very welcome change. But GAWD, it just got so boring after awhile, didn’t it???? Of course I had a lot of other things to think about and do and deal with, but even so. It was just all so predictable in so many ways in the end. Maybe I’ll drum up the ambition one of these days to watch some of the final performances on YouTube. Maybe not.
I definitely predicted little David to win, so the fact that David Cook came out on top is a very pleasant turn of events. Definitely the more seasoned and talented musician, which is exactly why I thought they’d want someone younger and more easily controlled and manipulated and molded. I also think David Cook would have done just fine in second place, and that David A. needed the title more.
And that’s my brilliant two cents worth of commentary. May they all cope well with their varying degrees of fame. Or lack of it. Canadian Idol is next. Our judges are way more fun. Our voting is insanely regional. Our host has had bad hair, every single day of his life. There’s so many things to laugh about when we take ourselves and our Canadian-ness so very seriously. Good times ahead.
This exact moment…..
…..is all we have.
It’s been a lovely little 2 week hiatus from making my brain function in any kind of normal fashion. If there even is such a thing as normal brain function. Seems like everything in my life is in a kind of jumbled up mess these days, so here comes a blog reflecting that interesting state.
I decided on Friday the 9th to go and see my mother. W. I guess was tired of my long zombie-like stay in limbo. Should I go, should I wait. He asked me what I was waiting for. I couldn’t say, I didn’t know. I flew out on Sunday, the same day he left to drive to Ontario to be with his brother for his second surgery (the first one was 20 years ago) on a brain tumor that has once again started to give him some problems. But that’s a whole other story – kind of like a sub-plot at the moment, and I can’t make my head dwell on it.
I made the trip living in the moment. Completely absorbed in the Ellen show. Savoring the styrofoam cup of black coffee. Deep breathing at the gate waiting for my connecting flight in Winnipeg. Joking with the car rental guy in London. Where are you off to on Mother’s day? Why, to see my mother of course. She’s in hospital. I hope it’s not a surprise – she’ll see you coming and think she’s dying!! haha. So incredibly not funny, but how could he know. I went directly to her room where she was fitfully sleeping, connected to a myriad of tubes and gadgets. She didn’t know it was me, at first, and started talking like she’d been in the middle of some kind of decision making discussion, and what did I think? What I thought was that she looked incredibly frail. A tiny little 91 year old lady whose body was giving up on her. Her doctor was terribly blunt. We’re not trying to fix things here, you understand. Of course we all understand, old age has no miraculous cure.
The next few days were spent going back and forth, helping mom with breakfast, off to the care centre to visit with dad and take him to lunch, back to the hospital for lunch with mom; then to my sister’s house, back to the care centre, back to the hospital. My birthday I spent at the hospital with mom while she waited for the ambulance that would take her ‘home’, back to the care centre, to be with dad. I wonder if he really realized how long she was gone, or that she was back. He’s gotten so forgetful. His lucid moments are precious. Mom, on the other hand, had decisions to make, and things to set straight. At one point she had me scribbling a long list on the back of an envelope. I dutifully took it all down, scatter brained me, having to get my sister to clarify it later. All the various recipients of donations. It made her so completely happy to know that she was able to give, to make a difference, no matter how large or small.
When she was settled back in her own bed she seemed much more content. Still giving orders, but none so urgent. Mom never really complained too much about things, even if she was clearly upset by something like a cushion gone missing, or an article of clothing ruined by the laundry. If there was bad news, or good news, she was always accepting. So it was quite funny to see her being fed a spoonful of her breakfast by one of the attendants and to hear her say quite clearly, “Damned oatmeal”. Mom never swore, but her lifelong hatred of oatmeal finally brought it out of her. The last time I saw her I couldn’t get her to wake up. I went over to dad and talked to him, and he wouldn’t wake up either. So I hugged them both, and left them. A cowardly way to say goodbye. I hate goodbyes. More than oatmeal.
I flew home on Thursday, and left on Friday morning to drive 6 hours north to look after three kids, two dogs and two cats for the May long weekend. That’s a whole other story too. Being pulled in three different directions at once, trying to keep some semblance of order and making sure nobody gets hurt. Definitely living in the moment, because there’s nothing but new moments, one after the other in rapid succession. They’re awesome kids. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
Late Monday afternoon, just after J. returned home, we got the awaited call (although I really didn’t realize I’d been waiting for it until it came.). Mom had passed away that afternoon. Quietly, in her sleep, I hope. Free of pain and done with business at last. Of course it was inevitable, and expected and in a way even prayed for, to have her released from a life that was no longer what she wanted. But hard to accept just the same.
So I’m savoring my coffee. I’m looking at the rain, and the green. Taking deep breaths of fresh, cool air. Remembering mom and accepting that she’s gone. Loving her. The love she gave to all of us goes back to her ten times over, and around and around to eachother, ever growing, in a way that must make her very, very happy.
W.’s brother’s surgery was delayed a week. It’s scheduled for this morning. Our dryer quit working the day we both rushed off, and I’ve made arrangements to have a new one delivered today. I’m going back to work. Life goes on, however altered. Nothing but moments, one after the other, in rapid succession, needing to be lived in, and accepted, and enjoyed. The past is done and cannot be undone. The future is uncertain. Today is a gift, and it’s all we have. Right now is everything. Jumbled up brain and all, I accept that. It gives me peace.
AI Top 4 and Results
Rock and Roll Hall of Fame week comes and goes, and Jason is off the show.
David C. – Hungry Like the Wolf and Teenage Wasteland.
David A. – Love Me Tender and Stand By Me
Jason – I Shot the Sherrif and Mr. Tambourine Man.
Syesha – Proud Mary and A Change is Gonna Come.
Is it just me, or are these not all really STRANGE song choices?? Would any one of them on it’s own have popped somebody into the aforementioned hall of fame? There was really nothing new here, performance-wise, by each of the top four. We have come to expect what they each deliver.
Jason’s send off was also expected and he seemed relieved to be done dreaming this particular big dream. Having ’shot the tambourine man’ would have been a hard act to follow. I hope he gets a recording contract, chalks up the experience and continues to get better and better.
I don’t know what Syesha has to do to oust one of the Davids. Her work is certainly cut out for her next week. David Cook does not need the American Idol crown to further his career. David A. does need it, and that’s why I think he’ll be the one to get it in the end. Two more weeks to go. Not the top three I would have personally chosen, but a nice group just the same.
Recent Developments
Don’t let that title fool you into thinking this will be wildly interesting.
First off I’d like to talk about eavestrough. The instalation has been a long drawn out process which started before our freak snowstorm with some guys showing up at the house and ripping the old stuff off the garage. Then of course they couldn’t work in the wretched weather, so we were able to fret about the ice in front of the garage door and the icicles hanging in a neat little row above that, waiting to kill us. Once it warmed up it took a couple of long days to get the job done, with an incredible number of ladders and pieces of stuff littering both front and back lawns and the whole driveway, making coming and going more challenging than usual. Then I got to write a cheque for an amount that was easily nine hundred dollars more than the estimate. Apparently W. added a few upgrades. Like some kind of leaf guard thing. We did discuss that one sort of; I remember asking if it was really necessary. Like, how much of a leaf problem do we have? I reminded him that he practically dwarfed our only big tree in the back yard, having it cut back so severely that it looks deformed. It’s not like we’re living in the middle of a forest. Leaves fall off briefly once a year. Our neigbour just had a big tree on the other side of our fence removed so he can put in a garage, and that tree was 90% of the (in my mind very minute) problem. W. said he supposed he could get up there with a hose and flush out the clogs if he had to. It appears he had second thoughts on that one that he didn’t share with me. Then there’s the width of the gutters. If we ever have a monsoon we’ll be okay. I get that the damn things are necessary to carry-run off from the roof away from the house but that’s about as pumped up as I can get about eavestrough. W. on the other hand, took the eavestroughing excitement to a whole new level. In the pouring rain he went out the front door and stood on the front lawn admiring the awesome workmanship. He came in and went out the back door and stood in the back yard doing the same thing I guess. Then he stood in the driveway for awhile gazing up. He blathered on and on about the great job, the seamlessness, the amazing down spouts, and how we will never again have to replace it. Gawd, I hope not. And he was ecstatically happy about the fact that they weren’t leaking. How in the hell can you see that they’re not leaking in a downpour? Everything is dripping wet. Including you. Amazing. I wasn’t referring to what he thought, but he was satisfied with that comment.
I had Kenzie for the weekend, then dropped her off at her dad’s on Sunday night. We had a great time! Did some serious shopping, getting some pink sketchers and a couple of great books. Pirateology (because she had borrowed it from the school library and LOVED it) and Dragonology because grandma likes to buy things in twos. And a seal puppet that I had to be convinced was necessary, and of course turned out to be the favourite thing that never left her left arm even while sleeping. We also picked out a nice Mother’s day gift for her mom, and I hope she remembered to get her dad to help her make a card. And then we went to Montana’s for lunch. On the kid’s menu there’s a couple of speach bubbles on the coloring portion where it suggests that you give the deer and the moose something funny to say. So she made the moose say BURP and the deer say HAHAHA. There’s nothing quite like the humor of a seven year old.
The rest of the weekend she spent with the two little girls next door (they’re much younger, but they have a trampoline), plus the beautiful little red haired girl who sometimes comes to have a sleepover with her grandma, two doors down. One of their games involved an incredible amount of running around and screaming. I learned later that they had invented an illusive ghost that could be spotted by any one of them pretty much anywhere, and when sighted he caused everyone to run away in terror, because if he got too close he could cut off their heads. How delightful. I wonder what kind of nightmares that caused.
On May long weekend I’ll be driving up north to look after my other three grandchildren while their moms go to see Kid’s In The Hall here. Dressed as the Sizzler Sisters? I think I got that right. They’ll have a fun time, being the KITH’s biggest fans. Having me go up there seemed like a much better plan than having to bring three kids and two dogs here. This is happening while W. and son are off to Ontario for their spring fishing trip.
And that’s my life up to the minute. I’m looking forward to life on my own for a couple of weeks. Perhaps I can out-do the whole eavestrough thing with a much needed inside renovation of my own. Because when we’re finally selling this house I would bet my life on the fact that no woman will be standing on the lawn with her husband admiring the down spouts.
Blossom Street?
I was in the mood for some fluffy chic lit when I picked this book up, and wow, it filled the bill. Immediately. To the brim and then some. I did a little research and discovered that this is book three in a series of four blossom street feel good knitting group based books. Yes, I re-read that sentence, and nope, there’s no typos.
Reading this book was like sitting down for a nice long gossipy chat over tea and cookies with one of those people who drones on and on forever about people we’ve never met and situations we don’t care about. You know the type. They can’t possibly tell you a simple story and get to the point. There’s so much background you need to digest first, and so many stupid little details to dwell on, and so many facts and characters to keep straight it makes you wonder if maybe there’s going to be a trivia test later. No worries – if you missed something the first or second time around, it will be repeated. Many times. Until you could not forget any of it even if you tried. And your head starts to ache and you realize there aren’t enough cookies in the entire world to make this interesting and you develop a sudden and inexplicable loathing for tea.
Okay. Relatively painlessly brief synopsis: women who share a love of knitting take a class to make prayer shawls. Lydia (cancer survivor who cannot have children so of course desperately wants to) teaches the class. Colette, (young widow) is confused about her former boss who may be a criminal but she is in love with him and carrying his child. Alix (alcoholic parents, familiar with life on the streets) is engaged to a minister and stressed to the max with wedding plans. Lydia’s niece Julia is the victim of a carjacking and an ineffectual justice system and must also cope with Margaret, her vengeful neurotic mother. And guess what? Every single one of them has a happy ending. After pages and pages and pages of slogging through crap.
I don’t think you could pay me enough to read the other three books in this series. Well, maybe a million bucks and hide all the sharp knives. Nah, even then. Because Collette and Christian went to a restaurant and he ordered a burger and fries and she ordered soup. That is just one of the many completely useless bits of information that seems to be burned forever into my brain. I can’t handle the stress of wondering how knowing that makes any difference whatsoever in the development of the plot. And if you have to start a sentence with it went without saying then for the love of GOD don’t say it. People who knit do not seem to have any sense of humor at all. And they live and work on streets with gaggy sounding names. Their personal stories can make you feel downright suicidal. I’ve learned my lesson. No more blossom street for me.
AI Top 5 Results
Jason Castro makes the top four! I’ve never been so completely delighted to have made a wrong prediction. All three guys safe, girls in the bottom two, with Brooke going home. I listened again to Jason’s two songs and then to the group performance where he did some great solo parts and it’s not hard to see why he has a lot of crazy voting fans who are keeping him in there. As much as I’ve liked him from day one, I never imaginined he’d make it this far. He’s probably just as surprised as anybody else at this point.
So it’s a great top four! The two very different, very talented Davids, the broadway diva and the dreadlocks guy. YEAH!! Here’s to something once again truly brilliant next week from Jason – because we know he has it in him to turn the judges comments around.
And it still all comes down to whose music is going to sell, doesn’t it? If every one of these young people brought out a cd tomorrow the ones I’d pick up would be Carly’s, David Cook’s and Jason’s. And that’s it.
About
(Umbrella - by Existrance/deviant art)
This is where I come to talk to myself by dredging up an old photograph or a memory and beating it to death with my keyboard. One day all this blather will be treasured by my progeny. Deluded as that notion might be, it’s what keeps me here. Just to clarify things a little, no part of my past or present life was ever spent actually living on a sidewalk. Life in the fast lane would have been a big fat lie; life on a skinny railing high above the railroad tracks with an umbrella at dawn – damn. Didn’t think of that one fast enough. But it’s sometimes how life feels. Precariously tense, but insanely fun.
