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Location: Somewhere (not over China)

I grew up in a town with hippies, rednecks, and a reservation. My daddy was a cowboy and my mother was a Baptist. Thus, my life experiences molded me to be slightly off center at all times...sometimes right, sometimes left.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Stories we could Tell

Talkin' to myself again
wonderin' if this traveling is good
Is they're something else a doin
'We'd be doin' if we could

This post is for my cousin Jamie...a couple of characters here that you will recognize. The bad part about becoming a photo blogger is that I am no longer required really to write anything, which is actually okay with me a lot of the time. My photos tonight won't really mean anything to anybody but Jamie, so this one is for you.

We all only hope to look this good when we are 97. Grandma is still a princess--she's got the whole clan waiting on her hand and foot. Still alert, living alone. She broke her arm and had to spend a couple of weeks in rehab this summer right before her 98th birthday. She gets a little confused, but for 98, I would only aspire to do so well. She's not nearly as tall as she was when I was a kid. I think she was 5'10" and I'm 5'11", but she admits with the osteoporosis, "I just stoop a little bit every now and then, it's too hard to stand up straight." interestingly enough us big Scandinavian/German women are far less prone to get osteoporosis, because we have more bone mass...But when you are ninety something, if you don't have it something is weird.

And then, these two reprobates...The other guy is my dad's best friend from high school. His name is Milo, and he's the only person besides my friend Sam that has come to visit me in West Texas. Milo is a lot like me...takes off traveling when the urge strikes and has done it his whole life. About twenty years ago, he called dad because he was thinking about marrying his girlfriend. They had been dating for nine years and Milo was forty something at the time. Dad told him to just wait until he "got the other foot in the grave." Dad acts older than Grandma most of the time. My mother is getting to be a better sport with age, and my dad is getting to be a worse sport. He has worn out his frame and is arthritic. He finally sold his colts, so maybe giving up breaking horses will improve his temperament. I figure at 73, he is only about 33 years late on giving up bucking horses.

And of course, these characters are near and dear to Jamie. Bruce is a hoot, and Carol is just a lovely woman. I think Bruce has finally played enough golf to get bored with it, and is thinking about coming out of retirement. The lighting was wrong for this picture, but it wasn't about photography.
All the stories we could tell
If it all blows up and goes to hell
I wish that we could sit upon the bed in some hotel
And listen to the stories we could tell