A LOVE STORY - "Beginnings"

Barbara Ann Kissinger was her name.  I do not remember the first time I met her.  She first appeared in my life as the sister in law of the church's new Music Director.  When she came into my circle of friends I was dating Debbie and I do believe I was in love at that point in my life.  Debbie and I had been together for a year or so though now it feels like we had been together much longer.  Later in life Barbara would tell me that when her friends from school were telling her about the other youth at her new church they would single me and Debbie out and tell her "That's Bill and Debbie ... they're inseparable".  Debbie and I weren't inseparable though.  Just a few months after Barbara was told that as a fact,  Debbie and I had a talk in her parent's basement where I was told that maybe we should just remain friends.  It hurt but I respected Debbie far too much to fight her about her thoughts.  I graciously accepted the fact that we were not to be and walked away alone.  I was never one to be  over run with females that were interested in me so I was able to adjust back into single mode of life fairly quickly and easily.

The common denominator between Barbara and myself was my very good friend Valerie.  Val and I had been friends for years and were pretty close.  It was Valerie who I shared my first kiss with in the boiler room of the church one Wednesday night.  Valerie was two years older than me and we talked about many intimate things.  Among those things was the fact that I had never really kissed girl in a deep and sensual way.   Valerie, being the great friend that she was, offered to help me along in learning the basics of romance, which was greatly appreciated and enjoyed.  

Barbara and Val were two grades ahead of me in school even though they both were just a little more than a year older than me.  This was because the school district had a promotion date of October 1 of each year.  Barbara being born in September of 1955 would graduate in 1973 while I being born in October of 1956 would not graduate until 1975.  I never understood why the district settled on October as the cut off date instead of sometime in the summer months which would have made more sense to me.  However that was the setup and as a result Barbara was one of the youngest in her class while I was one of the oldest in mine.

It was towards the end of the school year in May of 1973 when Barbara, Val and their classmates began to plan for their big graduation night.  All of the girls had a date except for Barbara and so she and Val started the search for a likely candidate.   I am not sure which of the girl's idea it was but one of them recalled that I was recently free from Debbie and that I might be willing to escort Barbara on her big day.  Barbara had shown an interest in me lately but she didn't want to seem to forward and so it was decided that Val would put out feelers to me on whether I might be interested in the idea.  The thing to remember is that Val and I were very close.  You might say she was my best friend at school.  We shared a locker together which was unique since she was a senior and I was a lowly sophomore.

On that particular morning I met Val at the locker as usual.

"You know Barb Kissinger from church?" she asked with that wry smile of hers.

"From church?  Not sure.  Why?"

"You know, Jerry and Nancy's sister.  Short?  Like me.  How would you like to tag along to the senior party after graduation with her .... and me and Robert."  She had a little grin on her face as she reached for her textbook for her class.  "You know Barb.  She sings in the choir.  There!  Right there.  Remember her now?"

I turned and looked to my side and saw a short brunette walking past.  She turned her head slightly and glanced at me.  When our eyes met she dropped her head and increased her pace a little bit.  I recognized her as being the little sister of the music director's wife.  

"Oh yeah.  I remember her."  I then felt like I should add a caveat to my recollection.  "I mean I don't really KNOW her.  Just know who she is.  So I would be, like, her date?"

Val flashed a quick grin at me.

"Date?  I guess you call it that.  Party is at King Louie after graduation.  Sheryl and her boyfriend, me and Robert and you and Barb? Think you can go?  It would be almost an all nighter."

I was not sure how to answer this proposition that came out of the blue.  I couldn't give an answer on the spot unless it was a "no".  I would have to ask mom and dad about this and that wasn't exactly a cool answer to give.

"I dunno Val.  I'll have to see." avoiding the question for the time being.

Val tilted her head.  "Well it's in a couple of weeks.  It'll be fun and Barb is really nice.  Come on you'd like her and just between you and me, she really likes you."

Val turned quickly and waved over her head as she walked away.

"See you at lunch!  Have a fun with your math!" she called out as she left

I did not know what to think.  I had a hard time keeping focused on Mrs. Skaggs algebra class as I tried to form a picture of Barb in my mind.  I did know who she was but had not really paid much attention to her.  I had a lot of things going on at the church and I had been trying to keep my mind off of the situation with Debbie to take notice of a relatively new girl at the church.

That night as I lay in bed trying to get to sleep Val's voice kept running through my mind.  "She really likes you".   She was cute.  She had a nice smile.  She was very short.  Then again, short isn't that big of a deal.  I could look past that.  Being at the senior party would be kind of neat.  I had a few friends in the class of '73 and Val would be there to rescue me if things with south for some reason.  I decided to see what mom thought about it on Saturday.  I figured it couldn't hurt to ask.  It actually could be an exciting.

I approached mom Saturday afternoon before I went to play basketball with Larry and Ronnie at the church parking lot.  All my chores were complete so I figured I should talk to her about it while I was still in her good graces.  I found her a little apprehensive when I explained the details of the approaching night.  Val would be with me.  Yes it would be late into the night but Val would be there.  It would be a highly chaperoned party at a well known venue and Val would be there.  This girl I was taking was Nancy Olthoff's little sister AND Val would be there.  Actually I would REALLY be going with Val and just hanging around with this Barb girl .... whoever she was.  As I watched her look at me as she was thinking my thought was "well, this is going to be a big no".

"Let me talk to your dad about this.  You be home for supper?"  she was standing with her hand on her hip as I grabbed my basketball to head out.

"Unless Ronnie's mom asks me to stay to eat, sure."   I grabbed my keys to head over to Ronnie's.  Talking to dad was for sure a positive for me.  That meant she was leaning towards being okay with it and just telling dad what I had planned.  Sure enough when dad and I got home from work on Monday mom gave me the green flag to go out with the seniors after graduation.

I didn't see Barb much over the next week or so.  I talked to her a little at church as the day approached just to get a feel for her.  She was nice, Val was right about that.  She was cute with a nice smile but she didn't seem to know music very well.  I noticed that when I was talking to Ronnie about a new album that had been released she had not shown any interest or knowledge about it.  This was a little discomforting but not enough for me to back out of the Senior Party coming up.  I could overlook a few important things just to get through that night.  It would not be a problem in my mind.

The day of graduation finally arrived and along with it some devastating news.  The morning of graduation, Val's boyfriend Robert had been arrested and was currently in the county jail.  He had been caught on security cams defacing the building of a rival high school the previous night.  No one knew why he had done this.  Val was crushed.  I found out when Val picked me up to go to the LDS Auditorium where the graduation traditionally took place.  I could tell something was wrong when I got in her little green Ford Pinto.  Her eyes were red as she tearfully told me she would not be going to the after party.  I spent the whole ride across town trying to change her mind and to go.  From my perspective this could bring big trouble to me if Val did not go.   We arrived at the auditorium in Independence and as we parted ways Val said she probably would go.  We agreed on a place to meet after graduation and I entered to mostly empty auditorium  to wait to see the ceremony to be followed by a long night of celebration with the new graduates of the Class of 1973 of Ruskin High School.

The ceremony was a long one as all of them from Ruskin High School were back in those days.  I knew what I was in for as I remembered sitting through my sister's graduation the previous year.  One by one the graduates would be announced as they walked across the stage to receive a book like holder for their diploma but without an actual diploma inside of it.  Those would be mailed to the graduates later.  I sat through the whole thing watching many friends from both school and my church go through the ritual of passing into adulthood like so many before them.  I thought of Val as I sat there listening to the speeches.  Val walked across the stage with her head held high masking the heartache that she was carrying.  I watched as Barb, my companion for the next few hours, walked and graduated.  After about two hours or so (probably longer) I went to meet Val, Barb and the others that would be riding together to King Louie to celebrate the end of their public education careers.

We all rode in separate cars to a shopping center where we left all the cars and to consolidate into one car for the ride over to King Louie West.  Val sat in the back seat with me and Barb silently running things through her mind about everything that had happened in the last 24 hours.  The King Louie facility was over on the Kansas side of town.  I had never been there before and have only returned once or twice since that night.  It was huge.  They had a huge arcade, a billiards room with dozens of pool tables.  There was a hockey size skating rink, dozens of bowling lanes.  In short just about everything you could want if you were going to spend the better part of the night there.

Barb walked by my side as we entered.  She was in a great mood with a big smile on her face.  She informed me that she had never been ice skating but she had played pool.  Her father had a pool table in their basement at home.  She had been bowling before but she thought she would have a difficult time at the pinball machines because of her height and short arms.  After talking a bit the group of us decided to bowl a few frames first.  Only four of us bowled as Val wandered along with the group not saying much and not feeling up to doing anything.  After bowling the group spent a little time on the pool tables splitting up into couples after that.  Val went and sat at the concession drowning her sorrows in Coca-Cola.  Barb and I started walking around observing other graduates and stopping to talk to them once in awhile.  Eventually we found ourselves at the skating rink as we found our conversation stalling.

"Want to skate?" she asked as she stopped walking to stare out at the ice.

"I guess.  You want to?"

"I never have but sure, I'll try it if you stay by me."  she asserted.  Just then one of her classmates came crashing into the wall and fell to a stop flat on her posterior in front of us.

"You sure you want to?" I asked her with a smile.  She gave a slight chuckle and affirmed that since everyone else seemed to be having a rough go of it, why not as long as I stayed close to her.   

We went to get our skates.  She wore a size 6.  Tiny little skates that looked like they would fit on a fourth grader.  We sat and I laced up my skates while she worked on getting hers on.  I went ahead out onto the ice while she was working on it.   I was pretty athletic growing up with good coordination and quick reflexes.  I was very surprised at how easy ice skating was to me.  The only problem that I encountered was figuring out how to stop.  I found it very much like roller skating.  I took a few laps totally enjoying the new experience and for a short while forgot all about Barb, my date for the night, preparing for her maiden attempt on the ice.  As I came around on another lap I suddenly saw her on the glassy surface.  She was holding onto the side rail for dear life, slowly trying to work her way around the rink.  The next time I came up on her I slammed myself into the wall in front of her.  It was the only way I knew how to stop.  She gave out a little squeal of surprise when I banged into the wall.

"You said you had never done this before" she laughed out.

"I haven't.  I swear.  You want some help?"

"YES!  This is crazy!" she exclaimed with that beautiful smile.  I do think that was the first time I truly noticed how beautiful that smile was.  It was a smile that I would never forget.  I took one of her hands while she used the other one to hold onto the railing and we slowly made our way around the rink a few times.  We would hold hands the rest of the night.  

The party officially ended as far as King Louie and the school were concerned at around 3 in the morning.  We met up with the rest of the group that had ridden over together to head out to finish off the night.  Barb and I sat in the back seat with Val holding hands.  We ended up at Terrace Lake Shopping Center where we had left the other cars.  Someone found a Frisbee in one of the cars and we spent the next hour or so tossing it between us.  It wasn't long before someone noticed the time and suggested we all head home.  It was around four in the morning as we headed to our cars.

"You riding home with Val?" Barb asked in an almost hoping way.

"Yeah I think I should.  She's had a rough night."

Barb understood the situation with Val and agreed.  Just before I go into Val's car Barb came running up to the window.

"Here."  She handed me a small piece of paper.  "My phone number if you want to call.  I had fun.  Thanks"

"I had fun to.  It was a good time.  I'll call you"

And with that the short little girl with the beautiful smile slid into her Chevy and drove off.  It was the first night of what would become a lifetime together.  A lifetime that was cut off to short but also a lifetime that would be filled to capacity with sharing, living and loving.

It was only the beginning.

THE DIFFERENCE IN TEN YEARS

I was sitting in my favorite spot in my living room this morning listening to an album that was released fifty years ago.  Steely Dan's "Can't Buy A Thrill" stared at me as the music wafted through my ears and into my head landing in the memory bank of my mind.  I first saw and heard Steely Dan perform "Do It Again" on "The Midnight Special" one Saturday night.  Donald Fagen had a distinct voice that caught my attention immediately.  It was a good song with good lyrics.  Back in the 1973 pop music was, in my mind, in the middle of the greatest decade of rock music in my lifetime.  The years 1965 to 1975 plus maybe a couple of years added to each side of that timeline took rock, country and jazz music through  a magnificent metamorphosis.  I can look back to the Top 40 of any week during that decade and my mind just whispers to me, "wow....".  As I scanned my memories from 50 years ago I started thinking what I was like 50 years ago.  Looking back 50 years ago even I wouldn't recognize myself.  I was a kid of 16 then with my whole future ahead of me.  I had yet to buy my 1967 Impala.  It was a time of transition for me from Debbie to Barbara with my last few months of freedom on that front being realized.  I had my career picked out but that was about the only thing of consequence I had accomplished.

My mind shifted to the changes my life had gone through in just the last ten years.  I thought about how I am now compared to just ten years ago.  "Just ten years ago".  During the ten years that followed 1973 I had graduated High School, married Barbara and adopted Brett.  I was in a job with a company that would see me through to my retirement.  In 1983, it still felt like I had my whole future ahead of me with a lifetime to go.  Time passes quickly though.  As I look back I can see that now and realize that life is ever changing and it doesn't stop until you take that last breath.  I am much closer to that last breath now than I was in 1973, 1983 or even 2013.

As I look back at myself in 2013 compared to today the changes are dramatic.  Brett had graduated high school 13 years before and had left Barbara and me with an empty nest.  Dutch never got over Brett not being there and go crazy wild every time Brett came walking through the door.  Dutch was only 5 years old at the time and still had his tank of energy at full.  In 2013 I would take Dutch for a weekly walk as I had Rudy before him.  I did not walk Dutch as far and as long on those walks as I had Rudy though.  Rudy had developed problems with his joints at an early age.  I did not want that to happen to Dutch.

Barbara's health was just beginning to slide on that downhill slope.  Her back was just beginning to bend forward as the fusion of her spine began.  She was able to still ride with me to Alabama to visit family but in 2013 we only ventured that direction once a year.  Mom and dad were still living in Kansas City but slowly their health was beginning to decline as well.  In three years they would relocate to Alabama to live closer to my sister.  When they moved was when my hands were full trying to take care of Barbara whose health was on a rapid decline, and dad's health was starting to fail as well.  As a family we decided that Elaine could take better care of mom and dad than I could while I was trying to take care of Barbara.  I think Barbara's last trip to Alabama was in 2014.  She made one more trip, that being to Texas for her nephew Travis' wedding.  As far as I know she never left Kansas City after that.  It was too hard on her back to even make a trip across the state to St. Louis.

We were on the last of the Saturns we would buy, Barbara driving a 2007 while I drove my precious 2006 Ion.  I think I loved that car more than any other car I had owned except maybe the 1979 Malibu that I had purchased brand new.

Barbara had returned to work and was happy with her job.  It would be the last job she held working for R. L. Stein Construction as an office manager.  In three short years, the spring f 2016, Barbara would stop working because of her health issues and begin the process of applying for Social Security Disability.  I was still working at Dit-MCO putting in my 34th year with the company.  I like to think I had attained the status of old-timer among the younger workers that brought a little respect for just staying around so long.

My health was not on the bight side in 2013 though it was much better than Barbara's.  I had two big wake up calls in 2012 and 2013.  In 2012 I had suffered my first heart attack.  It was the first sign to me that maybe I was starting to get old.  In 2013 I had my first colonoscopy where they found and removed several per-cancerous polyps.  This put me on the three year colonoscopy plan which I was thrilled about.  Since that first colonoscopy they have removed per-cancerous  with every procedure.  As you can guess, I am still on three year plan.

Ten years ago I was still fairly active though.  I broke my foot playing basketball with Brett that year and we never finished the game.  I claim the victory though since I was up on him as the time of the fracture.

The house had undergone a slight transformation.  After having carpal tunnel surgery on both my wrists, it was near impossible for me to paint the house.  Putting vinyl siding on the house became our first major improvement on the house other than a couple of new roofs over the years.  It improved the look of the house dramatically.  Barbara and I did not spend a lot of money ten years ago as we saw ourselves nearing our 6th decade of life and started trying to save a little bit for retirement.  Barbara was more concerned about our readiness for retirement than I was or so it seemed to me.  I didn't require a lot of money to keep me happy and I thought I would do very well keeping the standard of living we had then on into retirement. After mom and dad moved south, my trips to Alabama became more frequent and I depended upon Brett and our neighbors to keep an eye on Barbara due to her health.  I did not like leaving her alone with only Dutch to keep an eye on her.

I think it was around 2013 when my natural cynicism rose to a new level concerning events and life in general.  When President Obama was elected in 2008 I held out hope that he would be a good man for the job.  I even made an entry in this blog about my hope for the new administration.  By 2013, that hope had been obliterated.  My cynical side became stronger and I went int a phase of life of not trusting or believing anyone outside my own little family.  In 2013 I saw the world as a huge mess with respect being thrown out the window.  The youngsters of 2013 (under twenties) did not seem to take seriously anything.  They did not have respect for the country or the system that made this country as great as it is.  Ten years later I look back at those kids in 2013 and realize that they were not too different than I was in 1973.  Strange how that works.

Now I look at myself in 2023 compared to that person I just described.  I am calmer now than I was ten years ago.  I don't let my anger out hardly at all.  I tend to let things slide a little bit more.  I feel like I have come to accept the way the world is.  I do not understand a lot of things that go on in the world these days but things do not seem to bother me as drastically as they use to.

I am retired now after receiving a kind reminder from God that I am mortal by way of a second heart attack.  That heart attack the day before Barbara's birthday put me in the same hospital, in the same ICU just down the hall from where Barbara had died.  Those few days gave me plenty of time to think.  I thought about where I was and where my life was going.  I confirmed my thinking that life is indeed far to short.  I came to the conclusion that perhaps I had not lived my life to it's fullest.  Perhaps a little Charles Dickens crept into my thinking that I still had time, just as old Ebeneezer Scrooge had time to change a little.

I find myself in this phase of my life as entering the end game.  I am heading towards 70 now, an age I never could foresee happening.  I began my life with Barbara in the form of a first date 50 years go.  It was not always easy during those years.  There were plenty of rough times mainly because of myself.  We made it though.  During those last years with Barbara we grew closer to each other on a daily basis.

Now the nest is not only empty, my whole life feels empty at times.  The house especially feels so quiet and empty.  Dutch died last November, Brett of course is out making his way through life and Barbara has been taken to her heavenly home.

I find myself trying to learn how to live on my own by myself.  I have had to overcome my anxiety about making phone calls and still have a ways to go on that.  I have to learn how to keep up the house and keep it in order.  I have to learn to keep doctor and dentist appointments.  I have to learn to keep a healthy diet.  I have learned to keep myself busy and out of the house a day or two each week.  I have found a place to volunteer my time to helping others.

I have to learn to deal with the silence and the emptiness that I feel not only in the house, but in my heart. 

I guess the biggest change from 2013 to 2023 is that in 2013 I felt a purpose.  I was working.  I was taking care of loved ones.  I was being productive. In 2023 I am still productive.  I am still active.  I do feel that in 2023 I am being myself more than I ever had in the past.  I use to spend what seemed like every hour of everyday I was trying to do the right thing, to please somebody to do what was expected of me instead of what I wanted.  I feel like the vast majority of my life was not about me but what others expected of me.  There hasn't been a lot of "Bill" in my life.  I am trying to change that.  Still though there are times that when I do take a step in that direction, I suffer consequences from people who still have those expectations and there is nothing I can do or say to change those attitudes. Even now as I contemplate whether to publish this put it out for the world to read, I have a hesitancy because of some of those factors from long ago. 

But in 2023 I also realize I am aging and as time ticks away ever so quickly I age even faster.  There are times when I feel so alone in a house that in the past I had craved to be alone in once in awhile. 

I feel like I am existing from day to day to day knowing that one day that last breath with finally come.

This writing did not take the course I was thinking it would.  I strayed a little I think.  I do think I painted a picture, albeit a sloppy picture, of how I have changed from who I was in 2013 to who I am today.  I am a work in progress still.  

I keep moving forward.

ENTRY NUMBER 498

 There is not a title for this entry to the blog. So, why no title.  Recent events in my life have put me into thinking mode.  Crazy convoluted thinking.  My mind has been running all over the place jumping from one topic to another.  It has been jumping all over the place at such a speed that I am not able to get organized in any manner or form.  Therefore, I guess I'll just write down .... well, whatever and see if you people can make any sense of it better than I can.  I am not going to post this on Facebook as I normally do, so it will probably be read by less then ten readers.  I have had this blog looked at over 86,000 times mostly because of Facebook.  I only have 2 followers according to my stat report on the it so do the math.  No one will hardly see this.  This is a good thing in this case as it makes it easier for me to write anything I want and not give much worry as to what people think.  Let's try this and see what comes out.

It is midnight here in Kansas City, Missouri the morning of March 27, 2022.  I have learned over the many years of my life that when people ask where are you from and you answer Kansas City, they immediately ask you how are things in Kansas? This irritates me a lot.  I do not live in Kansas.  Never have have and, if I have my way, never will.  I don't actually HATE the great state of Kansas.  It is just that Kansas is not Missouri and I LOVE Missouri.  I was born here and have lived my entire life here so far.  After the last few years, particularly the last week or so, I no doubt will die here as well.

Yes I love this state.  There are many reasons why I do.  One of those reasons, ironically, is the fact that Kansas is so damn close.  On the western side of the Missouri there is a natural rivalry between the two states.  It is more than the rivalry tween the two major universities, University of Kansas in Lawrence and the University of Missouri in Columbia.  This divide between these states can be traced at least as far back as the United States Civil War, if not earlier.  Before the war began and as part of Missouri being given statehood in August of 1821 the powers that be came up with the Missouri Compromise.  The main part of the compromise was the beginning of ending the growth of slavery in the country.  Missouri would be the last state to come into the union as a slave state.  All territories and states from then on would be free non-slavery states and territories.  It was a huge first step in the country's move towards ending the institution of slavery.

There is a misconception that Missouri was a southern state and a part of the Confederacy.  Fact is that when the CSA was created, Missouri did not succeed from the union.  This state has always been a member of the United States of America from it's inception.  This worked out great for the north and eastern part of the state.  St. Louis was a northern, anti-slavery city without a doubt. Most historians consider St. Louis the last eastern city in the country and Kansas City the first western city.  That is a little side track but one that I have always found interesting.  Anyway, Kansas City definitely supported the southern cause and lined up with the CSA.  Kansas settlers were supportive of the abolitionist and so on the border between Kansas and Missouri fierce fighting and battles broke out during and after the war was over.  Kansans were known as Jayhawkers while the Missouri folk were referred to as Ruffians.  The most famous of these Missouri Ruffians was one Bloody Bill Anderson.  He was best known for raids into Kansas multiple times and once burning the town of Lawrence to the ground.  Eventually, after the war was over, the Federal Government had to institute Order Number 11,  I think that is what it was.  Barbara would know for sure, but this order acted kind of like the demilitarized zone between North and South Korea.  Eventually the two states learned to live next to each other, but deep down there is still a little of that rivalry existing between the citizens whose families have been in the border area for many years.  New comers don't understand it, but they shouldn't be expected to I guess.

So I have lived my whole life within 15 minutes of Kansas.  In all honesty though, the people of Kansas are good people.  They are typical mid-west friendly as much as those in Missouri are. My definition of the mid-west is not the same as it is nationally.  Ohio part of the mid-west?  I don't think so.  The mid-west to me is east to west from the eastern border of Indiana and there about to the western border of Kansas.  From north to south it goes from the Canadian border down to maybe northern Texas, no further south than Dallas though.  Mid-west people are very friendly and helpful.  I would rate the people of the southeast and the mid-west about the same.  There is no better place to have a car breakdown on you than somewhere in the Great Plains.  You will have help and get helped back on your way s soon as possible.  Thinking about that now, it could be because these mid-westerners don't want you to be hanging around the area very long.  They see California car tags and the general thought is that the sooner we get them out of here the better.  I can see that thought process being carried through.  I can see myself thinking that way actually.

I have visited other cities in the country.  The cities I have spent most of my time out of Kansas City include San Francisco, Oakland, Denver and Chicago.  Also on my travel resume are the cities of Los Angeles, Seattle, Boston, Nashville, Memphis, Dallas, Phoenix and Louisville as well as some smaller areas. I can honestly say that none of those cities compare to my home town.  That is to be expected though I imagine.  I do love this town and state.

Well, it is 1:30 am on the 27th of March of 2022.  I have breakfast and church services in the morning so I'll temporarily stop for now and maybe pick this up again tomorrow. 

Woke up a little early this morning, around 6:30 when my Sunday morning alarm is set for 7:00.  I do not find a problem with this as it gives just a little more time to relax with Dutch.  I love my Sunday mornings.  It is an important part of my week and the most relaxing part of my week.  I wake up and first thing on the agenda is to let Dutch out.  While he is outside taking care of business I grind up some coffee beans and brew a nice pot of my favorite beverage followed by letting Dutch back inside.  I then shave and take a shower, get dressed, put some music on before sitting down and enjoying a cup of coffee while petting Dutch.  This is such a relaxing few minutes that Dutch loves.  I head out towards my first stop of the morning.  At 9:00 every Sunday morning I walk into the Belton Crackerbarrel Restaurant.  Sometimes I enter with my special friend Lisa if she is feeling well or wasn't up all night dealing with things in her life.  Most Sundays though, I enter alone and sit facing the windows that look out onto I-49 to watch the traffic pass by as I eat.  And what do I eat?  It is very simple.  Coffee and Mama's Pancake Breakfast. This gets me two eggs, two sausage patties and three pancakes to go along with my coffee.  Now the church is only a few minutes away so I can eat leisurely taking my time enjoying every bite.  At 10:05 I head out the door for the short drive to the Open Door Bible Church a couple of blocks away.

When I arrive at the church I exchange greetings with the "Welcomer of the Week" before heading to a board that has name tags printed on to sticky labels.  I find my name, put the tag on my shirt and walk into the sanctuary to find a seat on the back row.  Today was the last Sunday of the month so at the end of the service we partook of communion.  This is always a special time for me.  It has been special nearly my whole life.  Communion upholds my beliefs and my faith.  It is a time of reflection that provides me a way to strengthen my faith and what changes I may need to make from the mistakes that occur on a daily basis.  This week there was a lot of reflection and corrections that need to be considered.

I can predict the rest of this particular Sunday.  I'll find a ball game to watch or maybe a movie.  I might listen to more music.  More than likely a nap will happen at some point in the day.  Sunday s a day off for me in a series of days that are all days off more or less since I retired.  I'll head to bed around midnight or so and wake up tomorrow morning whenever Dutch feels it is time to get up.

Well, I think ENTRY NUMBER 498 went fairly well.  Perhaps I will do the same for number 499.  I don't know.

Right now though, it is publish time.

200 YEARS

 August 10, 1821. On that day the United States made it's greatest expansion move since 1776 and still stands as the nation's greatest acquisition.  On that day, 200 years ago, the United States of America granted statehood for the 24th time.  The great State Of Missouri entered into the Union.

Missouri did not enter statehood smoothly though.  It took many debates in Congress what the circumstances of Missouri statehood would entail.  The result was the Missouri Compromise.  Under this compromise Missouri would be the last state to enter the union with the right to make slavery legal if they so desired.  Missouri walked the fine line between slavery and emancipation.  Missouri has vast cotton fields in the southern half of the state, particularly in the bootheel portion of the state.  However, when the Confederacy was created Missouri did not join the rebels.  It remained a Union state much to the chagrin of about half of the population.  Because of this, Kansas came in as a free state and the Civil War brought some of the fiercest fighting along the Kansas and Missouri border.  In many ways the rift between Kansas and Missouri continues to this day.  It is hard to explain the dynamic of it, but you can feel it.

Besides the Missouri Compromise, Missouri has a rich history.  It was where the Lewis and Clark expedition kicked off as they made their way up the Missouri River in search of the Northwest Passageway.  William Howard Clark, yup same name as the one I carry, would become the first Governor of the state.  Both the Oregon Trail and the Santa Fe trail had their jumping off points on the western edge of Missouri.  The Pony Express, which carried mail to western destinations in the wilds was based in St. Joseph.

It is the setting for the last eastern city in the country (St. Louis) and the first western city (Kansas City).  The Great Arch along the Mississippi River in St. Louis is the Gateway to the West.  

This state brought us Jesse and Frank James and the Younger brothers.  Modern day Robinhoods.  St Joseph was also the place here Jesse died.  To those in Missouri he was murdered as a southern folk hero.

This is the state that gave Harry Truman to the nation.  You're welcome.

The state is where the two largest rivers in North America come together with the Missouri River and Mississippi River joining together.  This convergence of the two mighty rivers made Missouri one of the biggest inland ports in the nation.  The Missouri River is also the anchor that created Kansas City from a little trading post called Westport to a thriving metropolis that it is today.

Geography wise the state is beautiful in all parts of it.  From the cotton fields of the southeast to the scenic bluffs over looking the river in the northeast.  The Ozark "Mountains" (even if they do seem more like very high rolling hills) in south central are a wonder in and of themselves.  In mid-October these hills turn into a canvas and a wonder of God's handiwork.  Yes, I have been in New England in the fall and have seen it's beauty, but the Missouri Ozarks can stand toe to toe with it.

Kansas City is known as the City of Fountains having fountains everywhere you look.  It is home to the second largest public park with Swope Park sitting second to Central Park in New York City ... I should recheck that but I am pretty sure it is.  At any rate one of the largest public parks in the nation.

It is a major center of culture and the arts.  Kansas City and St Louis are major centers but the culture runs in all parts of the state.  Questions that?  Visit the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City.  It is world known as one of the great galleries in the world.

Missouri straight out middle America.  It holds that title proudly.  It is a diverse state that celebrates many cultures, races, and philosophies.  It has swung back and forth like a slow moving pendulum between conservative and liberal.  Currently the pendulum seems to be starting it's swing to the left but in about 50 years or so it will swing back to the right.  always has and always will.

One last thing.  The Missouri State Flag is, in my mind, the prettiest, most classy state flag of all the other fifty.

I could write more and I did plan on writing more but distractions with a higher priority came along, so I will stop here giving you a small but good idea of what the state is like.  It is wonderful.  

The sad thing is though, there doesn't seem to be a lot of celebrations planned as far as I can tell.  Of course, I don't follow the news as much as I use to and I am pretty well off Facebook except to check on friends and family to see how they are doing, so there could be a lot going on but I am ignorant of them.

Bottom line is this.  I LOVE THIS STATE.  I am proud to be born here and to have resided here my entire life.  I am proud of this state.  Yes we do have problems just as other states do but to me this is a special place.  I truly love Missouri.  I have been flying my Missouri State Flag since mid July in my own way celebrating this historic day. It is home.  I am proud to call it home.

Happy Birthday Missouri!!!!  Here's to the next 200 years.  I love you.

 

THE FIRST CHRISTMAS OF FORTY-TWO

We had been married just a little over a month in 1975 and we were young.  She was 20 and I was a mere 19 years old.  Neither of our jobs brought in a lot of money but we were doing well enough to keep a roof over our heads in the form of a little three room apartment and have food for us and a little dog named Babs.  We were happy.

We both decided together that we would not spend a lot on Christmas for each other, saving the money instead.  We wanted to get our parents Christmas presents and then a couple of small inexpensive gifts for each other.  A Christmas Tree was out of the question.  Either way we went, artificial or real, would be more than we could afford and besides Christmas was about more important things than a Christmas Tree and decorations.  At this point in our life together we didn't have any ornaments anyway, so best to just put off all the extras that come along with Christmas and target the must haves.

Our money would be spent for groceries for Barbara to make dishes to take to each of our family Christmas dinners and we would make a donation to the Salvation Army following in my grandfathers footsteps.  I was taught by both my grandfather and my father that every Christmas no matter what, make sure you take some of your money to help those who didn't have as much and the Salvation Army was the vehicle both chose to do.  I remember being out at Christmas time with both men and when passing a Salvation Army bell ringer, stop and drop a few bills into the red kettles.  It was the Christian and the proper thing to do.  God had blessed you during the year, it is only right to give to those who were struggling.  It became a habit with me and still is to this day.  I always drop money into the first red kettle I see during the holiday season.  It is a way to honor God, my father and my grandfather.

The first Christmas would also set a precedent for me.  I never seem to get my Christmas shopping finished for Barbara, and later Brett, until the last minute.  This was the situation I found myself as we approached our first Christmas together.

It was Christmas Eve of 1975 when I left the office to head home.  I drove my old blue Chevy towards the apartment knowing I would have to stop somewhere to find something for Barbara's Christmas the next morning.  My head was filled with thoughts of where I should stop to accomplish the task.  There was a Ben Franklin 5 & 10 store on my way home so I decided I would stop there to see what I could find.  Once that decision was made, my mind started wondering what I would get her.  Maybe some earrings?  Maybe a necklace?  I did not have a clue.  My first inclination when going to a Ben Franklin store or one of that ilk was to go to the music section of the store and buy an album of some sort.  That, however, was not a very good idea to give to Barb for Christmas that year,  Especially since it was our first Christmas.  I imagined she would think that I was buying her a present more for myself then for her and to a certain degree she would probably be right in that thinking.  Okay, no album I told myself.

It was kind of cold and the sun was just beginning to go down as I pulled into the Ben Franklin parking lot.  I had to do this quick not wanting Barb to know I had waited until the last minute to get her a present.  As I learned through following Christmas' she always figured I had not finished my shopping until pretty close to Christmas Eve.  She on the other hand was a machine of efficiency, carefully picking out gifts and getting it taken care of shortly after Thanksgiving.  This would be the pattern of each of our habits for the next forty two years together.  One thing that became a tradition for Christmas as the years went by was that I would go to Lara Little's, a little candy shop at 75th and State Line to get her a half pound of sugar free chocolates.  Our last Christmas together, a couple of days before Christmas, we were heading over to my cousin's house.  I had not stopped at the candy shop yet.  As we headed up 75th Street I told her I had to make a stop first.  She knew exactly where I was going and what I was going to go there for.  As we pulled up to the candy shop I told her to close her eyes and not to peek until I said so.  She rolled her eyes at me and said, sure, but she didn't.  I went into the shop, bought the chocolates and coming back out of the store popped the trunk and threw the box in there.  As I got in the car she was looking at me with this all knowing little grin on her face.  I told her to forget we were ever here and she agreed to do so.  It was just my way to forget to do the little things until the last minute.

I walked into the Ben Franklin and started my shopping, wandering up and down the aisles trying to find the perfect inexpensive gift. I looked at everything that I could think of that might be as close to a perfect gift as possible.  I finally settled on a cheap earring/necklace set to get her.  Then over to the perfume area I went.  On my way to that part of the store though, something else caught my eye.

There, standing alone on a shelf, was a little three foot tall artificial Christmas Tree.  It stopped me in my tracks.  I looked at the boxes underneath the little tree and found out that it was on sale for eight dollars.  I knew that a Christmas Tree was what Barb wanted more than anything.  I stared at the tree while my mind raced through dollar figures and the budget we had set for Christmas.  Yes, it was a little bit outside our budget range if I got her the earrings and necklace, but it would make her so happy I thought.  Then it came to mind that I would need some ornaments as well for taking a tree home without proper decorations would be pretty silly.  Off to the side of where the tree boxes there were boxes of glass ball decorations.  The prices ranged from around $2.50 up to $5.00.  The cheaper balls were small.  Not tiny but small.  In short, they were the perfect size for this three foot tree.  I decided that Christmas only comes once a year, and it would be worth it to have a Christmas Tree for our first Christmas together.  I decided to forget the perfume and get the tree and a box of small red glass balls to decorate it with.  Heading back to the car with earrings, necklace, Christmas Tree and the glass ornaments in hand, I felt pretty proud of myself.

When I got home to the apartment, Barb was still at work.  I took my purchases inside and back to our bedroom.  After wrapping the small box that held the earrings and necklace I sat and wondered what to do about the tree.  Should I set it up and have it decorated before she got home?  Should I surprise her with it and let her decorate it?  Yes, that is what I would do.  I took the little tree out of it's box and located the small stand that was at the bottom of the box.  Taking it into the living area, I looked around for where to put it.  Barb's dad had given us a small television stand that we were using as a table for mail and books to be set on.  After clearing the little table I set up this cute little tree (yes, it had become somewhat cute to me by this time) on it.

It was about this time I heard Barb's car pull up in front of the apartment.  I sat and started to glance over the newspaper from that morning, pretending to read what I had already read and waited for her arrival inside the apartment.  As she entered I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye to catch her expression.  She walked in and started to take off her coat to hang it up when she suddenly stopped.  She had seen the tree.  She looked over at me then back to the tree.  She asked me where I had found it and so I told her the story of stopping at the five and ten store and seeing it on sale.  Her mouth turned up into that huge smile of hers.  She came over and gave me a hug and thanked me while at the same time asking me if this was her Christmas present.  As I got up to go into the bedroom to get the ornaments she expressed her happiness by telling me over and over thank you.  She loved it.  First Christmas, first Christmas Tree.  It was PERFECT.

I came out of the room carrying the box of red glass balls and told her there was more.  She looked at the box then asked "Lights?"  Dang, That had not crossed my mind.  I just told her no, no lights and she said ok.  It was then that we began a Christmas tradition that would last for 42 years.  I sat on the couch while she opened the ornaments and decorated the tree.  She went and got a sheet from the closet to wrap around and over the stand and carefully placed gifts underneath it.  It looked good.

She had bought the dog some treats for Christmas and had wrapped them and placed them under the tree with the other gifts.  It was about three days after Christmas when we came home to a dreadful sight.  Apparently we had left one of Bab's treats under the tree and Babs had sniffed it out.  The dog had tried to get at it by stretching herself up to the table and the whole tree had fallen on the hard floor.  The majority of the glass ornaments had broken but we manage to find four or five that survived.  After cleaning up the broken glass, the remainder of the balls were put back in the box and the Christmas tree was stored away.

It was the way every Christmas should, or would be.  A lot of fun and happiness added along with a tiny disaster just to keep things interesting.

Well, Christmas of 2017 would be our last Christmas together.  We were on our second tree since that first one.  It was five foot tall and had the lights already on it.  Over the years the little three foot tree remained a part of our Christmas as Barb and Brett would place it in his room for the Christmas season and it remains with me to this day.

Through the years, we have increased our collection of ornaments by quite a bit.   We began two other traditions over the years.  Each year Barb would by a new ornament for the tree and I would by a new Christmas album to add to the collection to be listened to over the holidays.  Our parents gave us ornaments that each of us had as children and they, along with the ornaments Brett was bringing home from Sunday School each year, made the tree just a little more festive each year.  We have had Cubs ornaments and Mizzou ornaments.  Last year one of my cousins who is a huge Kansas fan gave us a Mizzou ornament for Christmas.  Barbara loved it.  She loved it not only because it was Mizzou, but also because Eric had willed himself to purchase something that was Black and Gold.  Barb felt like it was a great showing of love for Eric to to do that and she promised that she would return the favor this year ... by getting Eric a Mizzou ornament.  Not surprisingly, Eric said no thanks to the offer.  We did not know it would be our last Christmas together and we were happy, as happy as that first Christmas forty two years prior.

So this Christmas I sat alone.  Barb had passed away at the end of July and my dad had passed away towards the end of October.  I had spent forty two Christmas' with Barbara and sixty one with my dad.  It was a quiet day this year.  There was not a tree set up and decorated but I did spend Christmas in what I consider a special way.

You see I decided to spend this Christmas with Barb and dad.  I would spend it with them by remembering special Christmas moments and memories that I had of dad over the last sixty one years and remember all those very special Christmas' with Barb.  All forty two of them.  Yes it was a quiet Christmas but not a lonely one.  All of those memories filled the day for me and all those memories were good and filled my heart with a peace and love for those two special people that were such a huge part of my life during our time together.

There will never be another Christmas like the Christmas of 1975 and there will never be another Christmas like the Christmas of 2018.  Both were very special.

I sincerely hope all of the my readers had as good of a Christmas as I did this year.  May God bless all of you as we head into another year that no doubt, will bring many changes to all of our lives.

Love you all

Bill

ONE WAS MISSING

Last week marked a big day in my immediate family's existence.  My dad celebrated his ninetieth birthday.  It was a miracle that he reached this point in life.  It was indeed a day for celebration.

The celebration was to be held in the small town of Camden, Alabama where my folks now live as my sister cares for them in the most unselfish and loving way.  Many people came to share in the celebration, mostly family and loved ones.  My little brother traveled from South Dakota.  My uncle came down from St. Louis.  My Aunt (Dad's sister) and my cousins came in from Colorado and Kansas. Dad had grandchildren and great grand children as well as great great grandchildren arrive from north Alabama and as far away as the other side of Atlanta, Georgia.  My Aunt and Uncle came down from Muscle Shoals, my niece and my nephew as well as myself traveled from Kansas City, Missouri.

The celebration started Thursday night when my little brother and myself arrived, continued into Friday night with the main party being held on Saturday.  It was a time of joy and happiness as we gathered for this special day.  Cards and well wishes were sent from family and loved ones from Kansas, Missouri, South Caroline, and Georgia.

As family connections were reunited and the talk among the throng ranged from topics as diverse as to the miracle that we have been allowed to have our dad with us all these years, to baseball, to spirited discussions between Tigers and Jayhawks.  It was crowded.  It was noisy.  It was happy and joyous.  It was  a day that I, and those that were there, will never forget.

As I took some time on Saturday and listened to all the different conversations going on, as I watched my dad look in wonderment at all the people that showed up, my mind began to wander a bit.

I noticed that my dad had morphed through the years.  He is quite a man, someone to be admired and respected, that is for sure.  He has changed though.  His knees are not what they once were.  He needs a walker to navigate his way around.  His mind is not quite as sharp as it once was in his younger days.  He forgets things easily and tires easily after short periods of time.  He still watches baseball constantly, but often he can't remember who he is watching play or what the score is.  He is getting old and his age is showing.

I noticed all of the people who had come.  Pictures were being taken with phones.  Dad was in the role that he had never really been comfortable with, that being the center of attention.  He seemed to be enjoying it though and he smiled a lot when people would come up to talk to him.  I know it was a long weekend for him, but he soldiered through it and actually, I think he really enjoyed it.

Later, when I was on my way home and stopping over in Dyersburg, Tennessee, I sat and looked at the pictures that were popping up on the internet of my dad's celebration.  I saw pictures of everyone.  I saw pictures of families who don't gather all together very often.   I saw a picture of Dad and mom with my sister, little brother and myself.  I stopped on that picture and paused to study it.

Mom and dad looked aged but alert and smiling.  My sister and brother and myself looked very good although you could see the signs of aging in our faces.  Five people that formed a family that was started in 1950 when mom and dad got married.  It didn't look right though.

You see, our little family grew up as six, not five.  My eldest sister, Carol, passed away just a little over two years before this grand celebration.  Carol was not there and I felt her absence deeply.  We all felt her absence.  Everyone of us wished that she were there.  There seemed to be a hole where Carol should have been.

Yes, it was a great celebration.  It was a celebration that was warranted.  It was indeed a joyous, happy and wonderful celebration and everyone of us were very aware of how lucky our lives have been to have been blessed with the presence of my father through all these years and none of us would trade it for the world.

Still, through all of the joy, all of the happiness and laughter, one was missing.  I can say, and I think I speak for all the family, that she was greatly missed by every one of us on that day.  I couldn't help but hear this small voice in my head saying "You should have been there Carol ... you would have enjoyed it so very much and would have completed the picture."

I love you Carol.  I miss you.

Front row: Dad's sister Aunt Velma, Dad and Mom  Second row: my brother Bob, myself and my sister Elaine

My sister Carol with her grand-daughter Haylee

CRITICAL THINKING ... NOT THESE DAYS

You know, I was going to write out a long dissertation on how I see things that are happening, but I realize it would not do any good or be of any worth.

The Free Speech clause of the First Amendment is slowly fading away.

President Trump is not the reason.... he is an excuse to be and act however you want, to destroy public property.  He was right though... it did take more than just the "White Supremacist" or "White Nationalist" (Depending on how liberal your news source is) to cause what has become one of the worst chapters in the history of this nation.

The "Anti-Protesters" at Charlottesville were agitators.  We have seen them over the last 5 years.  These agitators are the same ones who burned Berkeley, rioted in Baltimore and burned down Ferguson.

At times, it feels like the anti-haters are showing and talking more hate than the hate speechers have.  Like I said .. I just don't know.

My personal philosophy?  I despise the Klan and in no way support any sort of white supremacy group or any racial supremacy group.  I am for equality on an even playing field.  I am for getting along with and enjoying your neighbor.  I put great value on the freedom of speech for everyone.  I put great value in our Constitution and the rights and protections it affords us.  I do not believe we should abuse those rights and protections.  Abusing them will make them disappear.

What is going on in this country irritates me, saddens me, angers me.

Research Evergreen State College.
Research Ferguson again
Research Berkely
Research Charlottesville and watch those clips again, closely, and you will see more than one side armed to the teeth and doing battle.
Revisit the fight for civil rights and the lives given to reach 1964.
Then research Loving v Virginia and try to figure out how after 1964 CRA that in 1967 Many states still had laws on the books outlawing interracial marriage... (Missouri was one of those states, not proud, just giving a full account)
Revisit the teachings of Martin Luther King, JR, Robert Kennedy, John Stuart Mill, and John Locke.
Better yet, revisit the teaching of Jesus Christ.
Research the Furman v Georgia cases from the early 70's that said the death penalty was being used as a racist tool by some of the states and so the death penalty was outlawed until they passed fairer laws (still not totally fair but a lot better than it was).

Haters on both sides.  Speech and thought being shut down.  Art being removed from Universities.  Check out Yale University and how they are handling things.  They are removing paintings that may be too disturbing.

Let me say this.  Disturbing is GOOD sometimes.  Disturbing makes us stop and think. And when we stop and think, we can set things straight.

It is just a huge mob mentality across the spectrum.  Doesn't seem like anyone is thinking for themselves,  just follow whatever crowd your beliefs set you into.

I don't know.  Like I said, I have been thinking this over very seriously over the last couple of days.  I had a lot to say.  Then this morning it occurred to me that it doesn't matter anymore.  I got nothing to say really.  I know what I believe and I can live with that.  I was taught and raised well.  I had many good influences in my life as I have grown old.  Nothing that I see going on in this country today... the clash of the races, the clash of the genders, the clash of right or left .. none of that sits well with me and I don't think it should.

I am not going to go to battle with cousins that I love but disagree a little bit with... it isn't worth that to me.  It isn't worth losing friendships either.

This country is what... 241 years old?  You would think that we could get it right by now.

My bottom line is that I don't want to lose family, friends, or any relationships that I may have out there, in real life or on social media ... Just isn't worth it.  If  any of these mentioned want to talk about things, I'll talk... but I won't argue ... I won't let my emotions get carried away to the point of losing some REALLY good people that I have around.  Not worth it.

I got some good readers I think ... and I know that you know what I am talking about, where I am coming from.  I respect each and every one of you and I thank you for reading this silly little blog over the years.  I think it is time to start remembering stories from my past and going back to writing and sharing those with you.

For all of us, a quote from my Uncle Dan... "Take Care and Be Safe"

May God bless y'all.

Bill

AS LONG AS WE ARE REWRITING HISTORY

As long as we are rewriting history and destroying monuments and statues that remind us of our past, in particular concerning the slave issue and the Civil War, I think we should take it all the way instead of just those monuments of Civil war participants and Confederate Generals and armed forces.

So my first proposal is to rename any national monuments around the country that honor any president who owned slaves and held slaves which would lead up to the Civil War.  First off lets look at the Presidents of the United States who did own slaves.

01. George Washington owned slaves
02. John Adams did NOT own slaves
03. Thomas Jefferson owned slaves
04. James Madison owned slaves
05. James Monroe owned slaves
06. John Quincy Adams did NOT own slaves
07. Andrew Jackson owned slaves
08. Martin Van Buren owned slaves
09. William Henry Harrison owned slaves
10. John Tyler owned slaves
11. James K. Polk owned slaves
12. Zachary Taylor owned slaves
13. Millard Fillmore did NOT own slaves
14. Franklin Pierce did NOT own slaves
15. James Buchanan did NOT own slaves
16. Abraham Lincoln did NOT own slaves
17. Andrew Johnson owned slaves
18. Ulysses S Grant owned slaves

 Grant was the last President to own a slave.

The obvious first step is to rename the Washington Monument to the Quincy Adams Monument followed by renaming of the Jefferson Memorial to the Adams Memorial.  Give these two early opponents of slavery their due finally.

Next, replace Washington with John Adams on the Dollar bill and the quarter.  Followed of course by Quincy Adams being placed on the nickel and the 20 dollar bill along with Harry Truman or John Kennedy on the 50 dollar bill.

The destruction or removal of all memorials, statues of slave owing Presidents across the entire nation is a must.  Any National Parks or federally owned lands named in "honor" of these Presidents should be renamed to those who did not own slaves with Adams and Quincy Adams getting first chance.  Consideration should also be given to great Americans who did not hold the office of the presidency.  Abolitionists like John Brown, Fredrick Douglas, Harriet Tubman and Rosa Parks in particular.  That is not sarcasm, I feel these Americans have long been over due recognition, particular John Brown, as has President Adams and President Quincy Adams.

The removal from the Register of National Historic Places of the homes, lands, or anything to do with the lives of these Presidents who upheld Slavery should take place.  First stop would be to bulldoze Mount Vernon and turn those lands into a National Park or reserve.  Bulldoze Monticello and all of Jefferson's holdings, again returning these lands to the American people in the way of a National Park or reserve.  Neither of these should be named for their former owners, Washington and Jefferson.  The third in this process would be to destroy the Hermitage in Tennessee and again, reclaim the lands and holdings for the American people.

After these three national ceremonies are completed, a very quick and systematic destruction of all homes and holdings of the remaining slave owning Presidents, including Grant's Tomb, should be destroyed and removed from memory.

History books used in our schools should pull any mention or teaching of these Presidents that were slave owners, replacing that space with Native American history.  John Adams should be taught as being the Father of the Country and the first legitimate President of the United States.

A commission should be established on the feasibility of re-carving Mount Rushmore to replace the likenesses of Washington and Jefferson with a carving of John Adams and  Woodrow Wilson.  If the commission decides that a re-carving could not be done safely, then the faces of Washington and Jefferson should be carved off to a flat surface.  The second part of the duties of this commission would be to oversee the total destruction of Stone Mountain in Georgia.

All Civil War Battlefields in which the Confederacy won should dutifully be removed from the Register of Historic Sights.  Any depictions or statues of a Confederate soldier ought to be destroyed on these sacred grounds where Union soldiers gave their lives.

All museums in the country which have any confederate memorabilia, especially a Confederate Flag of any kind, should destroy these artifacts of insurrection.

And you know, I kind of think that Grant's signature on the terms of surrender should be redacted.  Just a black box where Grant's signature use to be.  Once you destroy history, it cannot come back.

Now of course, all of these suggestions are ludicrous and would never happen or so I hope they don't.  This writing was intended to be sarcastic and satirical.  I am not so sure anymore.  History is important people, even if you don't like it or if it offends you.  It is still history and it is history that we should learn from.  It is OUR history, the citizens of the United States and even though it has lots of blemishes, lots of scars, it is still the best in the world.

We have had good Presidents and bad Presidents, even great Presidents as well as absolutely horrible Presidents.  I take great pride though in the fact that through all of our disagreements, both politically and philosophically, this nation has always stood as one when it came down to the bare bones.  I can, and have, disagree with cousins and neighbors and my grandfather on issues that are very important and come away from it still respecting each other and continue to talk and carry on the relationship we have forged.

There is a lot of hate going on in this country and it pains me to see it.  It isn't just Charlottesville or Evergreen State and it isn't coming from just one group of people.  There are pockets of hate in every part of the populace.  It is these small pockets of hate from all around that give rise to a crack in the American citizenry.

Freedom of Speech is at stake I feel.  I also feel Freedom of the Press is in peril.  The whole First Amendment seems to be collapsing.  The fourth and fourteenth amendments are coming close to being in danger.

Communication is the key.  Respectful communication where there is someone who's turn it is to speak and others listen carefully, closely, respectfully so that if they do not agree with speaker, they can have their turn to talk and be listened to closely and respectfully.   I don't mean only in words but in our actions as well.

We need our great leaders, our great minds of all races, creeds, cultures, philosophies and political leanings, great Americans to emerge from the shadows to lead, to think and to communicate.  Don't let this nation, this United States of America, be ripped apart anymore than it has in the whole of its history.

Our country needs this for now, for the future and for the future generations to come.

WHY I LOVE MISSOURI

Missouri.  It is my home.  I have lived here all of my life and honestly would not want to live anywhere else.

It is a beautiful state from the farmlands up north to the soft rolling hills on down to the wonderful Ozark Mountains, to the flood plain in the boothill.  You can see all manner of livestock as well as corn and wheat fields in the north central part of the state to vast cotton fields down south.

It is home to the last eastern city in St. Louis to the first western city in Kansas City.  Small towns with friendly folk pepper the whole state.  From the Arch to the Shuttlecocks and on down to Springfield.

This state birthed one of our greatest Presidents in Harry S Truman, who was born in Lamar and passed on in Independence.

The University of Missouri at Columbia is host to one of the highest academic programs in the land, known primarily for it School of Journalism.

The University of Missouri at Rolla is known as one of the best Engineering Universities in the nation, ranking right up near the top with MIT.

The state has a rich history.  It was the kick off point for the Lewis and Clark Expedition.  In St. Joseph, the Pony Express found its beginnings.  The Oregon and Santa Fe trails began in the Kansas City area.  The first Governor was William Clark himself after his travels with Merriwether Lewis were completed.  It has legends of political machines in the 20's to the 40's.

The Capitol building in Jefferson City sits high on a bluff over looking the wide Missouri River.

Yes, this great state has a proud heritage and the citizens who inhabit its lands are a proud people.  The people of this great state range from academia to hard workers and farmers, many of the people are all three.  Our state motto says a lot about the state.  "Show Me"  Don't bull me, don't try to pull things on me, don't lie to me, but SHOW ME.  Facts.  Truths.

We have a strong Confederate legacy and a strong Union legacy.  We produced some of the greatest music to come out of this country.  Count Basie, Charlie Parker, Joe Turner and Sheryl Crowe among many many others.  We produced some of the great athletes like Satchel Page, Buck O'Neil Norm Stewart and many many others.

We even gave you Brad Pitt .... you're welcome.

We produced many leaders such as Tom Eagleton, Harry Truman, Dick Bolling and Stuart Symington.

The James/Younger gang came out of the northern hills of Missouri.  The Pendergast machine was famous for it's control of Kansas City.

Artists such as Mark Twain and Thomas Hart Benton came from this wonderful place.

We are the heart of America and we are proud to be known as such.  We have a rich and diverse culture that rivals that of any state in the country.

Lately though, Missouri has come under fire and came close to imploding.  The cause of this were mostly lies brought about by outsiders.  A graduate student in Columbia made up a hoax that started a chain reaction at the University that they are still trying to overcome.  There is great diversity at the university and the falsehood of swatzikas on campus and pick up trucks full of rednecks threatening minority students have all been proven false.  Once that story gets out there though, it is hard to show the rest of the country the truth, especially when the liberal media continue to propagate the lies.

The main thing that has stained our reputation came out of Ferguson, a small town north of St. Louis.  Even though the facts contradict what the media and certain organizations continue to put out there,  The Ferguson incident was not a case of racist cops gone wild.  The facts get ignored though and now, many Citizens are starting to believe the falsehoods, at least thinking that there is partial truth to them.

Missouri will overcome all of this hype and lies eventually.  The true nature of the state will eventually come back out.  The people will be seen as good people who love this country just as much as anyone in the land.

It also, in my opinion, has the nicest looking State Flag in the country.

I love this place.  I was born here.  I will die here.  To this Missouri boy, it is the greatest part of the greatest nation on the face of the earth.  No one can take that away from me.

GRANDSON OF OLD RED

Many many years ago, I recorded in words the legacy and the legend of Old Red.  I have since lost that writing before I began this blog, but the memory of this fantastic animal has never left my mind.  Old Red was a racer, a runner who went from the old tree in our front yard, leap to the rooftop of the house, run over the crest of the house down to the telephone wire and then race to the telephone pole and retrace the route back to the old tree in the front yard.  He was a well known for more than his speed though.  He was the caregiver of the squirrel community on Marsh Avenue.  He helped out the whole of the squirrel community and was a leader of the group. Old Red, and the tree he use to race from in my front yard have both been gone for quite a while now.

Last summer, as I was watching the various families of squirrels go about their business, I noticed a new squirrel sprinting around from tree to tree.  He was small compared to the other squirrels that went about their daily chores on the street but one thing caught my eye.  He was mostly gray like most squirrels in western Missouri, but his tail was what caught my eye.  It was red.  The whole of the tail was red and not just any shade of red but a red that I recalled from many years ago.  It was the same hue of red as Old Red's whole body had been.

I thought of that color of red and remembered Old Red as I watched this little guy scamper about all over the place.  He was a little reckless in crossing the street, seldom checking for cars that might be heading in his direction.  After a few days of watching him I decided to go and ask the question that was burning in my mind.

It was a nice quiet Saturday morning when he recklessly crossed the street to land in my front yard.  I stood up and started to walk towards him.  It didn't take him long to notice me and he stood proudly up erect on his hind legs, and while putting his front paws together gave me the deadliest stare he could muster.  He shook his tail a bit hoping to warn me off.

"Hey" I said cheerfully with a wave of my hand

"What?!?"  His voice was loud, stern, high pitched and squeaky.  "What do you want?  I am not bothering you, you know.  I got a right to be here or didn't you read the VERY VERY small print in the contract when you bought this so called house?"

"What small print?" I asked with a smile trying not to laugh at him directly.

"The small print that says that ANY wild life NOT being kept as a pet, such as dogs and so forth, have the right to roam anywhere on this land that they want to.  THAT small print!"

With this he dropped his front paws down and placed them on his hips, tilted his head and resumed his menacing stare at me with his tail still shaking.

"Nah, I don't bother with small print.  Can't see small print well enough to read it", I smiled at him at he let out a deep irritated sigh. "So, what's your name?", I asked.

He looked at me with a questioning expression trying to figure out if he wanted to waste time with me.  Finally he decided that being friends with the land owner could come in handy in the future. His voice dropped in pitched and became less of a squeak as he realized I meant no harm.

"Well, my name is Redtail" he said as he raised his arm and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder toward his backside. "That's my name anyway but they don't call me Redtail.  They call me Red runt"

His head drop a bit and his shoulders slumped a bit with this revelation.  He lifted his head slowly and looked past me into space as he thought about the nick name he had been laden with.

He sighed a bit and looking at me revealed something else.

"Of course I suppose it could be a little worse.  They called my dad 'Reddy Mix' because he had small splotches of red all over his body.  Almost looked like a rash.  Dad taught me how to deal with having a not so good nick name.  I deal with it."

"Your dad was Reddy Mix?" I asked with recognition.  "Wow, you had a great dad.  I use to watch him scamper around here all the time."  I watched for a reaction for Redtail and only got a shrug of the shoulders.

"Yeah, dad was okay.  He didn't do much, not like grandpa anyway.  Grandpa was a great squirrel, he was one of the great squirrel racers in history!" he exclaimed as his chest puffed up just a little.  "I never knew grandpa though.  He died in some sort of accident.  They never told me what happened."

"Your grandpa.  I knew him.  He was indeed a great one and a great racer.  I saw him race lots of times."  I said respectfully thinking back to that last day that his grandpa had raced.

"You knew my grandpa?"  Redtail's eyes widened and his posture straightened up in excitement.  "You knew Old Red?  You saw him race?  Please, oh please tell me a little about Old Red.  Please?"

I looked at young Redtail, looked at his eyes and the excitement in them and decided it was time he learned a little about Old Red.

I began slowly and thoughtfully.

"Your grandpa.  Well, they told you right, He spent most of his time racing other squirrels.  He was fast.  Very fast.  Probably the fastest squirrel on the block at the time."

I took a seat on my porch and lit a cigarette taking my time before continuing.  Redtail's eyes never left my face as I began to continue.

"Old Red, I like to think, was a friend of mine.  As close of a friend as a squirrel and human can be anyway.  I use to sit right here on a lot of Saturdays watching the races which your grandfather never missed as far as I can remember.  You see the old track use to be right here in my front yard.  There use to be a big tree out there in the yard and they would race towards the roof of the house, leap onto the house, run over to the back of the house and run on the line that goes out to that pole in the back.  Once they touched the pole they raced back across the line, over the house then leap back to the tree grabbing at limb to pull them selves up and race back to the main trunk.  Your grand dad was one of the best at that.  My tree was where Old Red ran his last race.  I was out here that day.  I saw that last race of his and he was faster than he had ever been.  You see, earlier in the day a younger squirrel, a newcomer to the races had broke your grandpa's record for running the course.  Your grandpa's last race was an attempt to get that record back and he almost did just that."

I stopped and paused, thinking back in my mind to that day.  Eventually I woke out of my daydream to find Redtail still staring at me, waiting for more information.

"Yes sir, he almost got that record back, but he...." and I found myself grow quiet as I the vision of what had occurred that day filled my head.

"But?" asked Redtail wanting to know why his grandfather had not broken the record.

I started out slowly and quietly, almost reverently,  "Well, Old Red made a mistake.  He took a risk to try to shave off a little more time for the record.  He was on the last leg of the course, coming down the roof heading for the tree.  He left the roof just a little bit early in his leap for the limbs on the tree.  I knew as soon as he left the roof that it was too soon to jump.  I think he knew it as well.  He stretched out as far as he could and grabbed and caught one of the smallest limbs out there.  He grabbed it with both hands and held on with everything he could.  The, uh... well the limb bent down with his weight.  Once it bent as far as it could, it snapped upwards, taking your grandpa with it.  He held on tight and I honestly felt that he had done it.  I knew the limb would snap back down again but I figured once that had happened, he would be off to the trunk of the tree.  But..." and here I choked up a bit but pushed on with the story, "the limb snapped back down hard.  Your grandpa couldn't hold on and he lost his grip.  He was thrown to the ground.  I sat here and looked at him.  He wasn't moving.  Soon the squirrel community came down to him to check him over.  The fall took your grandpa's life Redtail.   It... umm... it... well it broke his neck kid.  He didn't feel a thing.

I stopped and looked at Redtail.  He was slouched down a little and was wiping his eyes of the tears that had begun to flow.  He slowly looked back up at me and I read in his eyes that he wanted me to go on.

"You know, Redtail, Your grandpa was a very strong squirrel.  That limb had a hell of a snap to it to be able to throw your grandpa loose and to the ground.  The community took your grandpa away to his nest where they laid him down so other squirrels could come and pay respects.  Three days.  Three days he laid in that nest and the line of squirrels continued to come to see him and tell him goodbye.  Then after the three days they took him over to the brush by the lake and laid him down with all of the squirrels that had gone before him.  He was a very respected squirrel Redtail.  You should be proud that he was your grandpa."

Redtail and myself sat there quietly thinking about the story I had just told.  Eventually Redtail climb up on my knee and stared out into the yard where the tree had once stood.

I started talking quietly again to the small squirrel.  "That tree came down during a winter storm several years ago.  It was a sad day not only for me but for the squirrel community as well.  Thousands of races had been run on that tree.  Your grandpa ran well over a hundred races and held the record most of the time that he was racing.  When the tree came down, the record did not have his name attached to it though.  That is why they race at the new track over there," I said pointing next door to the big tree in that front yard.  "It is kind of a more dangerous track to run than the old track use to be."

Redtail looked at the new track and nodded his head.  Eventually his head returned to where the old tree had once stood.

"Can you read? I asked Redtail seriously.

"Of course not, not human writing anyway.  I'm just a little squirrel, remember?"

"Come walk with me.  I got something to show you." I said as I stood up and began walking into the yard where the tree use to be.  I looked down to be sure Redtail was following me into the grass.  We walked down to the water meter that lay in the yard next to where the old tree use to be.  When we got there Redtail looked at the big metal disk with human letters on it.

"What does it say? Is it about grandpa?" he asked inquisitively.

"Well let's see,"  I said and I squatted down to clear some grass off of the top of the old water meter.

I began to "read" the water meter for Redtail making up the words as I went along.

"Here once stood a great tree that was used as the main race path for generations of squirrels.  Many great squirrels ran this tree but there was one that stood above the rest.  It was on this site where the famous racer Old Red ran his first and last race.  He was the greatest of all the racers who ever ran here.  He will forever be remembered for his kindness, thoughtfulness, strength and courage.  May the name of Old Red never be forgotten."

I felt a small tug on the leg of my jeans and looked down to see Redtail hold onto me as he stared at the meter.  He then got down on all fours and walked onto the metal plate and ran his claws over the letters embossed upon it.

I decided to leave Redtail alone with his thoughts and walked back to the porch and sat, watching him contemplate what he had just learned.  After awhile I watched Redtail turn around and look at me before starting to slowly head back to me and the porch.

He arrived at the porch and climbed back up on my knee, laying his head down with his eyes staring out into the yard.

"Thank you" Redtail said.  "Thank you so very much"

We sat on the porch together until the sun set and it began to get dark around us.  He climbed off of my knee and looked at me with a new awareness of where he had come from.

"I'll see you around." he said as he turned and headed off into the night air to his nest.

I have seen him a lot since that day and when I do see him, he shakes his tail at me, smiles and gives me a little wave.  No doubt he will pass the tale of Old Red to his offspring and grandchildren and the name of Old Red will never be forgotten, at least not in the squirrel community.

THE IMPORTANCE OF GOODBYE

I have been haunted as of late by Leonard Cohen's last album before he passed away.  Cohen had a special following of fans, some of them didn't even know they were fans.  Cohen's songs were covered by many other artists who got a lot of airplay for their interpretation of his songs.  The most recent group to hit it big thanks to Leonard Cohen was a group called Pentatonix, who recorded Cohen's "Hallelujah" on their Christmas album last year even though the song has absolutely nothing to do with Christmas.  It is kind of like a group of Christian teens who decided to sing George Harrison's "My Sweet Lord" in a Youth for Christ meeting when I was young teenager.  They decided not to do it once they realized that Harrison's "Sweet Lord" was the Hare Krishna, a far cry from their Lord that they thought they were going to praise that night.   See, this is why I always say "LISTEN TO THE LYRICS PEOPLE!".  There are a lot of songs out there that actually have some philosophical meaning if you stop to actually listen to what the writer is trying to say.

Leonard Cohen's songs were like that.  His writing was usually dark and foreboding.  He seemed to always slip in some religious themes in his songs and most of the time his songs wrapped around broken or lost love, lost loved ones and the poor future of our civilization that was to come.  At the same time he was penning these dark lyrics, he was putting them to beautiful melodies.

As Cohen aged into his eighties, he set out to write a set of songs that expressed what he was feeling as he became closer to facing his own death.  The album was titled "You Want It Darker" which was also the title of the first track on the album.  His health was failing as he finished writing the songs and he recorded it a few months before he did leave this earth.  He had to sit in a chair in his apartment, which was transformed into a small sound studio, to record his final verses.  In an interview about the yet to be released album Cohen said "I am ready to die.  I am not afraid".  Cohen held a strong faith in his Jewish heritage and leaned on that faith as death neared.

I have been a Leonard Cohen fan for many years.  His dark sense of humor seemed to match mine and his pessimistic outlook in the human race seemed to mirror mine as well.  His music made an impact on me that for the most part I kept to myself.  Me and Leonard.  His was the one music I really didn't share with others.  If I could write music, I would want it to be like his.  I kept his music so much to myself, that I am not sure even my wife knew who Leonard Cohen was when I informed her in my sadness that he had died.  I spent a couple of evenings with her playing some of Cohen's tunes on YOUTUBE for her.  A few of the songs she recognized from the covers that had been recorded.  It didn't take long for her to come to appreciate the talent that this man had.

"You Want It Darker" is by far his masterpiece.  The songs are honest, spiritual and looks into the dark of night with more clarity than any songwriter I have heard.  This album has a hold on me and I listen to it often.  The words speak to me and I feel like I understand them and therefore understand Cohen.  This album was Leonard Cohen telling the world "goodbye".  I am so glad he took the time to tell us that.

As I listen to these songs my mind wanders back to those who I have loved and have gone before me.  As I age I find this album bring to mind thoughts of not only my own demise, but how many more loved ones am I going to lose before I am gone myself and don't have to face that prospect anymore.

I go back to when my great grandmother Hill died.  I loved her, I really did.  She was a tough lady that had a rough life but she fought her way through all of the setbacks and lived a long good life.  However, and looking back I am not really proud of this, but the main thing I remember about my great grandmother's death is that her funeral was to be in Springfield, Missouri on a day when I had a date with Patty Mason to go to my first school dance, and I had to cancel out.  I look back and I miss her now.  I have a few of her things that I remember from my childhood and find good memories floating through my brain of spending time with her.  I never got to tell her goodbye though and at the time it didn't bother me that I didn't have that chance.  Actually it still does not bother me much to this day.

The last time I saw my grandfather Hill, I knew inside of myself that it would be the last time I saw him.  He was heading down to Alabama to spend time with my Aunt Sue and I knew that he would not be coming back.  That night as I left, I did tell him goodbye.  I gave him a small hug which is not normal for me and maybe he was thinking what that was all about.  He did pass away on that visit to Alabama and even though I was extremely broken by his death, I was able to hold on to the fact that I was able to tell him goodbye.

I love all my Aunts and Uncles from both the fraternal and the maternal side of my family.  I am greatly blessed to have them as part of my life.  My Uncle Melvin was attacked with cancer.  He spent a lot of time in the hospital and I kept up on his condition through reports from my mother.  Uncle Melvin was special, as all my Uncles were.  As I sensed his health worsening I decided to make a visit to him.  After some of the things he did for me, covertly I might add, I felt like I wanted to see him at least one more time.  As I entered the hospital room he was in, my cousins all greeted me very warmly and led me to where my Uncle lay.  He patted his bedside indicating for me to sit and so I did.  He took my hand and told me things were going to be okay.  We talked a bit about things and then I told him I was going to miss him.  He looked me square in the eye, as Hills are taught to do, and told me he would miss me too.  I told him I loved him and as I leaned over to give him a hug he quietly said that he loved me as well.  It was not long after that when he left this world that he loved so much.  I am so glad I decided to make that visit.  Those words from my Uncle helped me to help my grandpa the day of the funeral.

My Uncle Duane was another very special uncle.  Although he had moved away to Nebraska then Colorado and I didn't get to see him much, I have many fond memories of him.  He was one of the most gentle men I ever knew and he had a knack for talking to me and showing me things.  This is one that really hurts that I didn't get to say goodbye to.  I knew he was sick, very sick.  Life kept me from making a trip to Colorado to see him though.  That was the excuse I used anyway.  I was and still am not sure if I could have handled it seeing him before he passed.  I loved him so very much.  When he did die, I beat myself up for not taking time to drive out to Colorado to see him and my aunt and two cousins.  I am still beating myself up for that slip.  Then when I think about it, it would have been extremely rough on me and chances are he wouldn't know who I was anyway, which would make it hurt even more.  Maybe it is best for both of us that I didn't make that trip.  I just am not sure.

My Uncle Dan and Aunt June were also very special.  June was married to Dan's brother, my Uncle Jack.  When Dan got cancer, we made a bond that we would fight this thing together and we did.  I saw him everyday and my wife would spend the night at his house to take care of him.  During this time, my Aunt June was also very ill and it was obvious that she was getting worse.  In spite of that, she traveled with my Uncle Jack from St Louis to Kansas City every other weekend to help take care of Dan.  Every weekend when they headed back to St. Louis, I would give her a hug and tell her goodbye as I did with my Uncle Jack.  But my goodbyes to my Aunt June held a lot more meaning.  I wanted to be sure that she knew I appreciated and loved her and considered myself lucky to have her for an Aunt.  Dan's cancer eventually took him to the point of where I had to take him to the hospice house.  The pain he was in was at a point of being more than I could help him with.  I stayed in hospice with him for a week, never leaving him as I had promised.  Each time I left the room though, I would tell him goodbye and let him know I would be right back.  I was able to whisper an almost silent goodbye the night he died.  At his funeral, as I was leaving his house I made a special effort to be sure and tell my Aunt June goodbye.  There would be no more bi-weekly weekend visits from her now.  I am so glad I did tell her that.

Then there was my sister Carol.  Carol had come up to help me take care of mom and dad during the summer when she was diagnosed with cancer.  She was determined to fight it as hard as she could, if anything just so she could get back to Georgia where her home was and her grandkids.  The two of us, along with my faux sister Karen, decided that we would get her well enough to get back home.  We succeeded.  As she and my sister Elaine left to head back south, I was able to give Carol a huge hug a big I love you and a kiss on her forehead.  We each said we would see each other the next summer when she came back.  She never came back to Kansas City though.  The next spring the cancer returned and raced through Carol's body.  The goodbye I had with Carol was one I would not trade for the world.

Then there is the loved one passing that comes out of the blue, totally out of nowhere.  This happened to me last February when one of my friends died.  Dennis was healthy.  He took care of himself.  He ate right.  He was active.  He also had a damaged heart from a heart attack several years ago.  That heart quit working that day in February.  I had not told him good bye.  I didn't have the chance to.  We had planned on meeting up in Mississippi later on this spring when I was planning to visit Alabama.  I had talked to him the day after his birthday in January.  No goodbye.  We never said goodbye to each other.  It was always "Take it easy, see ya later".  With Den though, there wasn't a later.  He was here one day and the next day, just gone.

I didn't go through all of the goodbyes I said or didn't say.  I use these few as examples of how my mind works when dealing with these situations.

So now for today.  I am 60 now and in what I have come to realize is the "window of death".  It seems like once a person gets pass 60 years old, all bets are off.  My parents moved to Alabama last fall so that my sister could take care of them while I try to take care of my wife.  My brother is in South Dakota, my sister, as mentioned, is in Alabama as well as my Aunt Sue.  My aunt Eva is the closest on the Hill side living in Clinton, Missouri while my Uncle Jack still can't pull himself from St.Louis.  He likes it there for some odd reason.  Aunt Velma is in Colorado while my Aunt Fay is in western Kansas.  My Uncle Jim, well I think he is in Warrensburg, Missouri, not too far away.  I do still have my Aunt Norva and Uncle Dale living here in Kansas City but I do not get out to see them much.

The question that hits me as I listen to Leonard Cohen's last album goes like this.  "Is it better to say be able to say good bye to loved ones or easier not to."  I don't know.  I sincerely just don't know.

It kind of feels like my good byes may be finished no matter what the answer may be.

It is starting to get a little lonely around Kansas City.