Slovenia

Do you recognize this photo? It was taken on Christmas eve afternoon of 1999 at Robin's mother's place where Bill, J.T., 17, and myself were setting up one of my greenhouses for a Christmas present.

...that would make him what, 34 now ?  Gaaaaah!

This cherub had just been breathing Lake Shore's air for 6 hours and the contemplative look on his face leads one to think he would like to know who's responsible for this travesty! Can you spell PTSD? (a.s.a. 1600 GAF)

38 years later, he is Dr. Jacob A. B____, graduate of biochemistry at Cornell, married to Dr. Vladana B____ova, graduate of chemistry at McGill University, Canada, with one new-born (as of 2010) son, Michael. The child's grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great grandfather were/are all named Michael, just different middle names!

I used to sit on my grandfather's tombstone when I was little. Wonder if he will sit on mine (if I have one). My father has a brass marker, undoubtedly overgrown, and I will probably have a cardboard box for my ashes at the police department! Oh, my grandfather's grave was moved for a new road, his whereabouts unknown.

Their home (my son & crew) is in Slovenia. Wonder if my grandson has any siblings? I haven't seen or talked to his father since he was 7 back in 1985 due to a very unpleasant divorce. ...such is life.

Since Slovenia has less than 2 million people, nearly all high-producing northern European (< 2.5 % muslim) and being a major gateway from the mid-east and Africa to the rest of Europe, wonder how that's working out?

I'm really sorry to see Slovenia, like all of Europe's native populations, have a negative growth rate. Obviously, this is not true of the low I.Q. haters that are invading their shores. It's too bad that we are witnessing the end of Western civilization and the inevitable rise of Hell-on-Earth. It's happening so fast that my kids will see the last as it is more than likely impossible to stop.

A bit low on wimmen, kids, and old folk

...ants on their way to the sugar bowl

I just had the weirdest thought. Back in 1969, I had flown back to Alabama for my sister's wedding, and just for kicks and giggles, called up Connie, my high school sweetheart. She and I had been going together since we were twelve and were broken apart by her mother at 17 1/2. Seems her mother thought we were sleeping together. Well, we had been, over a year ago. We thought better of it and were going to wait a few more years to continue since the only available birth control was the 11% failure rate condom. The thought of marrying too young and possibly winding up like her mother who was on husband #4 with children by 3 of them at 27 was less than appealing!

It seemed her mother thought my family was rich. We had a very nice brick colonial home built by my father & friends set on 15 acres, a swimming hole/farm pond, fenced & cross-fenced pastures for livestock including my horse, and bordered by climax forest and the upper Rabbit Creek which was as clear and cold as the Ichetucknee River. Dad flew charters as well as flight instruction in addition to his day job.

All paid for by lots and lots of hard work including this critter. We had the original Puritan Work Ethic!

The words "I'm bored" was never heard. That was always a call for work!

How in the world that woman thought she could ever prove statutory rape a year and a half after Connie turned 16 was beyond me. She humiliated her daughter to death by requiring her to undergo a pregnancy test and physical exam (she's over 17 fer christ's sake). I went before mast which included my father, mother, grandfather, and grandmother. Pronounced not guilty except for not being too bright.

Do you want to hear God laugh? Tell Him your plans... I've kept Him in stitches all my life!

Connie's mother forbade her to ever see me again. My parents went on to get divorced with my mother marrying one of my father's best friends. I hitch-hiked to Northern Virginia to work and go to college. There's lots and lots more, however that's enough to set up the ending of this story.

Connie and I met that evening and had years of "catch-up" to share. She was even lovelier than ever, probably just due the endless smile that I had liked so much! I had attempted to find her many times since high school, found out why I failed. She had taken off to Tupelo, Mississippi, eventually found a boyfriend and moved in with him. She tried the same as me with the same results: my mother moved around until her divorce was final, then moved out of town when she married my father's friend. My father went back to sea. Everything we had went to the lawyers (as I was to find out for myself the hard way a bunch more years down the pike. Ouch!).

We continued to hold hands walking and talking until the wee hours only deciding that even more disruption would be attempting to start anew as everything had degenerated into such a mess. I brought her back with both of us really torn up. We never saw or spoke again in our lives.

Where had we spoken? At Mobile Memorial Gardens, a favorite "parking spot" for teenagers back then and considering that evening's subject matter, fitting.

It was also, following a freakish industrial accident, the place where I buried my best friend and father 16 years later.

This was taken in December of 1982. Dad was taking the crew including Jacob, Daniel, Eleanor, and Joy (she's taking the photo) to Disney World. I'm buried in work plus still have a long way to go on the house.

Dad only had 2 1/2 years before the eternal dirt nap.

His good friend Dale (my age) rebuilt the hydraulics on his backhoe, made them fast and responsive.

Dad didn't know, and since he always operated the hoe with the remote paddle, nearly cut himself in half. It merely killed him instead.

Dad, Jake (inverted), me, Daniel, and Eleanor, my father's wife. She's younger by a year than Fran, my former wife in California of 2 months (and friend for life!). That dawg! ;o)