Truth Is

Well years ago when I first started this thing...my first real post was on my birthday. Here we are again. Happy Birthday to me. The day after Pearl Harbor. My mother told me that dad may have been drafted except that I was born. Of course he also had two other very young children and I came along after the attack...no, not just one day after .. but before the end of that pesky adventure called WWII. Never mind, I still saved the day and the family.

The family, if you have read any of the previous postings, have all passed on, mother, father, two brothers and then there's me, the last one standing. Of course there are nieces and nephews and they are certainly family but my immediate grouping is gone. My memory banks are not here. Of course the only memory bank that worked was mother's and I have learned that hers were sometimes very pepped up to suit her particular needs. I guess we all do that to a certain extent. An event from the past changes as we do. It is never related in the cold black and white tones of documentary but in the more colorful palette of story telling. It's like the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy first enters Oz.....we go from black and white to bursting color.

My life needs more color....black and white can be troubling. The truth is gritty and hard to deal with. It certainly works best for everyone but it is unsettling.

Truth is..today, I'm 63 years old. Yikes and away. Thirty more years are a possibility and each and every one should be a marvelous adventure. Off I go. Wish me luck. Bless everyone.