Saturday, June 25, 2016

So i will walk without care, beat my snare, look like a man who means business

Been a shit couple of days, even without the Brexit. My Son is still not transitioning well between his caregiver and coming to my house afterwards. There's a lot of shrieking, hissing and general unhappiness and it takes him a long time to calm down. Even today he greeted my cheerful, "good morning!" with shrieking and pounding on his bed. I know I'm not the cool parent, but this does not inspire me.

While prepping his lunch, this song came on iPod shuffle.



My Aunt was on the one who got me onto Rufus, he was on Geffen and she sent me his first record. That was the first song I heard and I have been a fan even since. Even went to see him live at the Newport during a sad period of my life when I was single. Imogen Heap opened, and Jon Hopkins was in her band. Things do go full circle as Hopkins and King Creosote have come into my radar.

This was on my Aunt's wall, so this show of his that she saw meant a lot to her. She would not have framed it otherwise.



So even with the small blow to her planning that Brexit took yesterday, and with everything else happening, maybe she's trying to cheer me up a little. I'm still not sure what to believe anymore.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Truck, what truck?

52 is an odd year for an even number. I'm one year younger than my Brother when he died. It's tough to wrap my head around that, still, and all the other grief I've dealt with over the last year.

Did a lot of driving this weekend in the new car. It's been a comfort, a lot of fun to drive. Went to Yellow Springs for lunch, another match of International Mini Golf (the first draw!) and to Westerville for dinner. Took in a good sunset at Hoover Reservoir.



My Wife's been taking good care of me. This afternoon we went to the Ohio Theater and took in a matinee of Raiders of the Lost Ark. Clark Wilson did his thing on the Mighty Morton Organ.



So it's been a good birthday weekend. And I got a reminder from my son's mother about upping the size of diapers. He's eating well, if not sleeping right, but he is growing - he never came with a pause button.

Sunday, June 12, 2016

How did I get here?

Of the documents and photos I inherited this is one of my most respected.



Alfred Dewhurst was my paternal Grandfather's Grandfather. He came to the states from Clitheroe, England in 1881. He made his home in Fall River. At the time he died, at he age of 43 in 1900 of tuberculosis, he lived around the corner from the Lizzie Borden house. Makes me wonder what my family knew of the crimes, if they attended any of the trial.

That document makes me want to go to Clitheroe, and try and find some of my ancestors graves in the local cemeteries.

This happened on Thursday



Easily the newest car I've ever purchased as it had 63 miles on it at the time. It's a thrill to be connected to the road, and have a warranty. Have no one to thank for this but my Aunt, really. Her planning made it possible. A friend of hers said she'd be happy for me, and that she'd be giving me directions. There were very few times we were in a car together and only one in which were were alone. I drove her to the luncheon after my Mom's services and she said I was a very good driver, it was about a mile.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Witnesses to notoriety?

Scanned a few more pictures tonight. There are so many and it's hard for me to figure out how to label them when there is no information on them.



That's my Grandfather, today is the 112th anniversary of his birth.

Got some genealogy updated. Have a couple of death certificates that I cannot connect to the rest of the family. One of them is of a girl who died at the age of five of marasmus. Click on the link if you dare, times was hard in 1888.

Also confirmed that some of my family lived around the corner from the Lizzie Borden home at the time of the murders. Small town that Fall River. Wonder if they were ever interviewed, or in the background the crowd photos of the trial, if there were any taken. Plenty of research in that case.

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

You can't buy time with cash

My Son started a new summer schedule with a new caregiver this week. She's watching him up in Westerville, which means I do not really see how it's going as his Mother brings him to and from there every day. She works close, so it makes sense that she does this.

The transitioning has been rather stressful. He's not happy being dropped off here and it takes him a while to settle down. Hopefully this will diminish as the summer goes along.

We got him a new bed last week, which he saw for the first time yesterday. He did not seem to be bothered by the change. He even slept in it all night without waking up. At least this bed is quieter than the last one, the frame squeaked often.

There's a new couch in the house also. We tried to get the old one out and could not. I was here when it was brought in and have no clue how the delivery guys did it. Ended up finding a saw and cut the top off the couch, then slid it all out. The new couch came without it's feet installed and the movers got it in the house with no problem.

There's a lot of movement this summer, in many ways other than travel. It's nearly impossible to plan ahead with my wife and son's schedules. So ironic that the money is there for trips, and we're immobile here. Also waiting for the title to the Hyundai to get here so I can trade it in on a new car. Maybe for my birthday next weekend?

Monday, May 30, 2016

Three parts today

First off, it's Memorial Day. I've been scanning some inherited pictures of my Great Uncle, who was killed in World War Two. Here's a picture of him (upper right) and some of his brothers from the 180th, Company A. I have no idea who they are, but I think they're in France because I suspect there is red wine in those glasses.



Second, it's our seventh wedding anniversary. Still love this brave woman who came across an ocean to live in this crazy place!



Third, I am very pleased to announce an old poem of mine called Mr. B. has been published today in Work Literary Magazine. Love when a poem finds a good home!