We went camping, so I had no internet for a couple of days. I really felt out of touch not being able to post. It’s so good to be back in touch.
Month: May 2015
Mothers Day Pinto
Mother was a slow learner. It took her forever to learn that Daddy was not the thoughtful kind of guy who would ever surprise her with lovely gifts and gestures. He was more the kind of guy who felt sorry for himself when she got her feelings hurt or got mad. After all, he was pretty sure he’d gotten her something last year, for her birthday or Christmas, one or the other. What had she done with that eggbeater?
This year was going to be different. Virgil Hughes had a nice Pinto horse. It was a good deal since it “wasn’t broke” yet. Nobody really wanted it since it stomped Euless and broke his leg, but Daddy was sure he could make a fine riding horse out of it. Kathleen was scared of horses, but she’d get over that. If she didn’t, he’d ride it. Daddy stopped off on the way home from work the Friday before Mother’s Day to pick it up. It was kicking the side rails when he pulled in. He called Mother out to see her beautiful Pinto and she hit the ceiling. “Of all the things I need, you come bringing in a horse. We need another useless animal to feed like I need a hole in the head.” She stormed in, furious.
Daddy stomped off, putting the horse in the pasture. “Kathleen didn’t appreciate anything he did for her. It would be a cold day in Hell before he brought her anything else!
Happy Mother’s Day!
The Moral of the Story is………..
Three missionaries went to a remote island in the Pacific. A stream divided the island. Their predecessors advised them. “Never,ever cross that stream. The monstrous Foo Bird patrols that side of the island. Should you cross that stream, the Foo Bird will poop on you. The smell is horrendous. It never wears off. If you wash it off, you will die.”
Naturally, the missionaries were burning with Christian Zeal. The first thing they did was cross the stream to spread the message. Sure enough, the Foo Bird pooped on as they stepped out of the stream. The first missionary rushed back into the stream to wash it off. He died on the spot as the other two watched in amazement.
About a week later, the smell was just as bad. The two were constantly nauseated. The second missionary couldn’t take it anymore. He waded into the stream for a bath. He died.
The third missionary suffered five long years till he decided life just wasn’t worth living like this. He’d have to wash this poop off, even if it killed him. He waded in and died.
The moral of the story is, if the Foo sh–ts, wear it!
Sketch of Roscoe Holdaway
This is a sketch my mother did of her father January 31, 1942, just a few days after Pearl Harbor Day. She was twelve years old. It is better than any photograph she has of him.
Merry Christmas, Evil Larry (names changed to protect the guilty)
My brother just called to remind me of his troubles with our cousin Larry, the bane of his existence. Larry was probably the only reason I had to be glad I wasn’t a boy when I was a kid. Thanks for that, Larry. Larry was fifteen months younger than me, falling right between me and Bill in age. Back then, our families had lots of overnight visits. Poor Bill Continue reading
Conquering Corwin (Part 2)
Aunt Essie got her nose out of joint when her little guys came home bringing tales of how badly Uncle Bill had treated them, so he didn’t hear from her till she fell on hard times a couple of years later. She had married her own fella named Bill by that time, strangely enough. This Bill was an affable enough guy, though he must not have taken time to meet Continue reading
Gift for Danny
The delightful photograph above is my brother-in-law’s favorite photograph, made with his mother, when he was five years old. My mother gifted him with this portrait of the two of them, based on that photo. Let me know if you’d like an illustration done,
Do you know how to really reblog?
Unity and Peace
In the face of the brutality black people are facing from police today, I am moved to wonder what I can do. I can speak up saying this is wrong. I can vote responsibly. I can speak up when I hear racial slurs. I can also speak up against irresponsible, destructive behavior. Looting perpetuates violence against blacks. Everybody has to step up to do their part to straighten this mess out. I salute the mother who pulled her son out of the looting and off the street. I know many people will be critical of her for hitting her son, but she reacted in fear of losing her son to violence. The two of them have the rest of their lives to come to terms with what they both did that day. We should all support people who are trying to do the right thing. Please join hands to build a community for everyone. All children need education, food, and opportunity. Don’t deny children and perpetuate this craziness. Opportunities should be universal, not a privilege! Give us unity and peace.
Nutsrok 