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Thursday, February 28, 2002
Problems. Problems.
I post these blogs through Blogger.com, who use FTP to upload updates to my Geocities account. Today I got an email from Geocities warning that they will be canceling FTP service at the beginning of April. I know how much you rely on my daily updates (don't deny it!), so I'll need to find an alternative.
Decisions. Decisions.
I was contacted yesterday by someone who knows of a Catalina 22 for sale. If you’re unfamiliar with sailing, the Catalina 22 is a nice little sailboat that has a roomy cabin for its size, and is, in my opinion, all the boat a sailing couple really needs... assuming they don’t have kids. If you’ve seen my sailing pages, you know how much work I put into the Beast of Burden less than a year ago. It’s a tough decision to give up a boat after all that loving care. I was very proud of the results. Problem is, I want more interior space so I can join in on those out-of-state gatherings and so Janice and I can spend the occasional quiet weekend in clear blue Florida waters. I’ve sailed various boats, and I have settled on the Catalina as having the most bang for the buck. The cabin has more usable space than some larger heavier boats, and it just appeals to me in general. There are two of them at the yacht club, and I’ve admired them often. My truck is a little too small to tow it, though, so If I buy it, there will be some problem solving to do. I’ll keep you posted. Tuesday, February 26, 2002
I've added my mast-raising system to the sailing pages. Check out the Projects page. Monday, February 25, 2002
Do I find the coolest stuff or what?
Here's the tiniest version of Space Invaders you'll ever find. You don't even have to hide it from your boss.
I love reading the personals ads. It's human comedy at its best. I often feel for those poor souls who put themselves out there for guys like this to dissect
BETCHA DIDN'T KNOW
Before Prohibition, Shlitz Brewery owned more property in Chicago than anyone else, except the Catholic church. If you put a raisin in a glass of champagne, it will keep floating to the top and sinking to the bottom. Kermit the Frog is left-handed. Nondairy creamer is flammable. The car in the foreground on the back of a $10 bill is a 1925 Hupmobile. If you can see a rainbow you must have your back to the sun. If you don't, you can't see it. The reason firehouses have circular stairways is from the days of yore when the engines were pulled by horses. The horses were stabled on the ground floor and figured out how to walk up straight staircases. The dial tone of a normal telephone is in the key of "F." The fingerprints of koala bears are virtually indistinguishable from those of humans, so much so that they could be confused at a crime scene. In the four major US professional sports (baseball, basketball, football, and hockey), there are only seven teams whose nicknames do not end with an "S." Basketball: The Miami Heat, The Utah Jazz, The Orlando Magic. Baseball: The Boston Red Sox, The Chicago White Sox. Hockey: The Colorado Avalanche, The Tampa Bay Lightning. Football: None. Beelzebub, another name for the devil, is Hebrew for Lord of the Flies, and this is where the book's title comes from. It is believed that Shakespeare was 46 around the time that the King James Version of the Bible was written. In Psalms 46, the 46th word from the first word is shake and the 46th word from the last word is spear. Columbia University is the second largest landowner in New York City, after the Catholic Church. When the University of Nebraska Cornhuskers play football at home to a sellout crowd, the stadium becomes the state's third largest city. In 1963, baseball pitcher Gaylord Perry remarked, "They'll put a man on the moon before I hit a home run." On July 20, 1969, a few hours after Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon, Gaylord Perry hit his first, and only, home run. Ohio is listed as the 17th state in the U.S., but technically it is Number 47. Until August 7, 1953, Congress forgot to vote on a resolution to admit Ohio to the Union. The dome on Monticello, Thomas Jefferson's home, conceals a billiards room. In Jefferson's day, billiards were illegal in Virginia. Every second, your senses send about 100 million different messages to your brain. Most boat owners name their boats. What is the most popular boat name requested? *Obsession Sunday, February 24, 2002 Another child christened today. From left: Janice (Godmother), James (the Father), Meagan, (the Baby), Gordon (Godfather), and Peggy, (Mother). Public Art wraps up This is a mural by Melissa Bonin. It's attached to the back of a building, facing Bayou Teche. This is an odd place for a large public work of art. We do have a river walk of sorts along the bayou, but it doesn't draw crowds because there's nothing there. There's a fence separating pedestrians from the bayou, and there's nothing else to see but the backs of buildings. So the only people who see this painting would be anyone who happens to pass in a boat, and the occasional driver on the back street that runs along the waterfront. I don't know how the decision was made to place it here. Melissa Bonin is an art teacher in the local public school system. She also lives here in the historic district. This just about wraps up the New Iberia Public Art series. I may follow up later with a series on local historic sites. As the mood strikes. Saturday, February 23, 2002
When you have a daily blog page like this one, you worry that there won't be enough things going on in your life to post on a regular basis. Well, the unexpected comes along just often enough.
This afternoon, Janice and I were weeding the flower bed when the phone rang. She ran to the house and returned a couple minutes later and told me that Jim Moore's daughter had called to get our address. Jim Moore is an author who has written books about his sailing adventures around the world. I've only read one of them: "Swan: The Second Voyage", but I enjoyed it so much that I read it a second time, then posted a readers' review on Amazon.com. I had always suspected that authors read those reviews, and apparently they do, quite eagerly, according to Mr. Moore. My review made enough of an impression that he had his daughter track me down. She said that her father wanted to send me a note expressing appreciation. But minutes later, the phone rang again, and it was Mr. Moore himself. He thanked me for my review and we talked for a while about celestial navigation (the subject of his upcoming book), and about his experiences in the Great Barrier Reef. He said that when he and his wife decided to build a boat and sail around the world, neither had even been on a sailboat before. I told him that I had similar dreams, but they'll probably remain just that – dreams. But you never know. I went back and re-read my review, and it wasn't very inspired, but it was positive, so that was good enough. Shane had a similar experience recently. His zeal for Poli-Glow, a marine fiberglass finish, was brought to the attention of the manufacturer, and they now use his picture and comments on their trade show displays. Just two examples of the power if the Internet. Friday, February 22, 2002Thursday, February 21, 2002
Fitness update:
Last month I announced that I needed to get back into shape after a winter of over indulging. This brought immediate criticism and name calling from friends of mine who seem to believe that real men wait until after their first heart attack to get into shape (When you visit Shane's house, he likes to show off his exercise room, but he was the first to criticize). I admit, I wasn't fat. As long as I kept my clothes on (which I always do) no one knew that my center of gravity had moved downward. But Janice knew, and I knew, and the J.C.Penney Men's Department was about to know, so I nipped the situation in the bud. I haven't been completely abstemious, but I've nearly eliminated alcohol from my lifestyle. I also stopped pigging out on Hershey's Kisses with almonds. That, plus the exercise has brought me back to the point where I'm comfortable in my clothes again. I hadn't gotten so bad that my belly hung over my belt while standing up, but it definitely did when I was sitting. Not any more (well, not as much). The bulk of my bulk has been eliminated, and I've moved over one notch on my belt. But more than just eliminating the flab, I'm determined to add muscle. When I was younger I had a decent physique, which was the product of years of relying on my arms to do what my legs could not. I didn't have to exercise, though people often assumed that I did. Not any more. I'm 42 years old now, and if I want muscles I'm going to have to earn them. I'm still on the kiddie level on the Total Gym, but it's becoming too easy, and I'll be taking it up a notch soon. As promised, I won't impose before and after pictures on you, my poor readers, but I've taken a few before pictures for my own use, and I haven't looked at them since last month. Next week, I'm taking a second round of pictures, which had better show a visible improvement. I told Janice that I want to get so buff that people will think I've been to prison, but I doubt it'll be that dramatic. :) I know. I know. None of you could care less about it, but hey, get your own website and you can post anything you want. Wednesday, February 20, 2002 Public Art Series I'll be honest with you. This isn't my kind of art, and I'm including it mostly for the sake of completeness of my series. This kind of local art is popular, though, and just about every town has at least one artist who paints in this genre with a fair amount of success. This mural is painted on the side of the artist's gallery in downtown New Iberia. I could only include a segment of the picture since it's very long and narrow. As you can see, the artist has her own website if you want to see more of her work. The public art series is already starting to wind down. I had originally thought that this would be the last one, but Janice ran into Paul Schexnayder the other day and he told her about a mural that I'd forgotten about. I'll get a picture of it this week. If I locate more in the future, I'll post it. Monday, February 18, 2002
Janice's favorite line from Sunday's show:
"Men are like parking spaces. The good ones are taken and all that's left are the handicapped." She laughed hysterically. She liked another one that mentioned artificial hips. If you can't laugh at your infirmities, don't marry Janice.
What a great weekend!
We spent three days in New Orleans. As I told you recently, we bought tickets to see A Prairie Home Companion live in a non-broadcast show. That was Sunday, but we got there a bit early... Friday afternoon. New Orleans is a great city. We really need to go there more often. It's only a two hour drive. On the first night, we ate sushi at a little place Wilda had recommended. It was only my second experience with sushi, and Janice's first, and I still haven't gotten past the notion that it's just a novelty food. I had to have it at least twice before passing judgement. Guess I'm just not the trendy type. Janice felt about the same, though we really did enjoy the experience. Saturday my father and his wife joined us for the day. We milled around the French Quarter, which was surprisingly crowded for the weekend after Mardi Gras. They probably had more street performers than I've ever seen there at one time. The wives shopped while my father and I watched the parade of humanity. New Orleans is a great place for people watching and girl watching. It's also a great place for food, but only if you get off the beaten path. The French Quarter restaurants are better known for second-rate cuisine doled out to tourists who lack the taste buds to know what they're missing. We dined at a very nice new restaurant called The Sun Ray Grill, in the warehouse district. It's a Zagat rated restaurant which came highly recommended by Wilda and Al. If Wilda, Al, and Zagat recommend it, you can't go wrong. I had bouillabaisse, which was incredible. My father ordered tuna. He didn't know that tuna is served nearly raw, and was apprehensive about it at first, but was won over by the time he was halfway through. Tuna actually loses all of it's appeal if it's fully cooked (my opinion). There was some tuna in the bouillabaisse which was fully cooked, and it was not as good as a nice rare tuna steak. NOTE: People who criticize bloggers most often complain about people who blog about food. But when it's worth mentioning, I mention it. Sunday was the highlight of the trip. The whole reason we went to New Orleans was to see A Prairie Home Companion live at the Saenger Theatre. Firstly, I had never been to the Saenger, but had heard Janice's description of it. No description can suffice, though. It was the most beautiful indoor space I think I've ever seen. In any other city, it would be considered gaudily extravagant. But in New Orleans, it is the crown jewel of an already gaudily extravagant city. But that was just the building. The purpose for the trip was to see Garrison Keillor and his troupe. We were not disappointed. The musicians were incredibly talented and the humor is so much funnier when you're actually there. What a great pool of talent. Garrison Keillor seemed to sing more than he usually does. He's not a singer at all, but there's something so wonderful about his voice that you could listen to him sing all day. I can't remember hearing a trained singer who has been so easy on the bones. Janice and I were both completely delighted. I had been enjoying the show so much that I completely forgot about the News from Lake Wobegon. When he started the monologue, a smile passed over our faces and we sat rapt in his story, and delighted that we were actually there live after 18 years of listening to the radio program. They even did a Powdermilk Biscuits commercial. Those are our favorites. 15 years ago we named a kitten Powdermilk because she was so shy. Today, she's the old queen of the house and as shy as ever. How do you go back to work after such a great weekend? I'll be humming those tunes all week. Friday, February 15, 2002
You're probably wondering how JeffAndJanice spent their Valentine's Day. You're in for a mild disappointment. We've never been big celebrators of events. We let birthdays, anniversaries, and even Christmases pass almost un-noticed. We've been that way for years. Not that we don't acknowledge the events. We just don't make a fuss.
Well, this Valentine's Day there wasn't even an option of making a fuss. I had to work late teaching my class, and Janice had to attend a class. She's getting a new godchild and the church now requires educated godparents. This is the fifth godchild between us, and the first time either of us has had to attend a class. I got home at about 10:30 last night. For once, I did get Janice a couple of little gifts, I guess because we couldn't be together. Janice didn't have time to do what she wanted. She had intended to prepare the JeffAndJanice signature dish: Champagne and Tater Tots, but we only had freezer burned Tater Tots and Chardonnay. But we're planning a fun weekend. Details later. Thursday, February 14, 2002
Pelican Update
Funny coincidence I chose today to blog about the pelicans. I just got back from Burger King, where I saw a newspaper vending machine. Today's headline: "Search is on for purloined pelican." That's right. One of them was stolen. That was a Lafayette pelican, not New Iberia. I didn't read the whole article, but I did see that it was valued at $2200. New Iberia Public Art Continues This isn't unique to New Iberia. We have five or so pelican statues here, but there are dozens in Lafayette, and I assume, in surrounding towns. I'm no investigative reporter, so I won't tell you who sponsors this project (because I don't know), but I can tell you that they start with a pile of pelican blanks, made of fiberglass, and each one is customized by a different local artist. One of the two pictured above is by Paul Schexnayder. When I was at the Lafayette parades Tuesday, Mark Richard explained to me that artists were asked to submit drawings proposing their own ideas for how to complete a pelican. Those that were chosen by local patrons were commissioned for completion. The New Iberia pelicans are all painted, but in Lafayette there are some that have copper plating or mosaic tiles added. They also took liberties with the sculpture itself, adding new elements. I believe this began in Chicago, where a series of cows started the trend. New Orleans got onboard with a fish series, and Acadiana does pelicans. I have no doubt that this is being done all over the country, and if I find a website that documents them, I'll post it here (email me if you know of one). Tuesday, February 12, 2002
Another Mardi Gras comes to a close. Today we decided to go to the Lafayette celebrations. The crowd has grown so large in Lafayette that the parade route has been extended to a full seven miles. There are high school bands and dance teams marching and dancing the whole distance. Ouch!
It was a perfect day for Mardi Gras. The skies were clear and the weather was just a little cool. I wore a blue jean shirt over a tee shirt and was very comfortable. The krewes were throwing a middling amount of throws, but how many do you really need? While waiting for the second parade to start, I heard someone call my name. It was Mark Richard, from my old art school days. While watching the parades we got caught up with each other. He actually makes a living as an artist. There aren't many people who can boast that. He paints abstracts and portraits, plus he teaches several classes. I really need to take one of those classes. You really have to light a fire under me to keep me motivated. After the parades, Mark invited us to his house. The majority of the rooms of his house are devoted to art. Spaces were dedicated to either creating it, displaying it, or storing it. Apparently he's been pretty prolific, because there was plenty. His portraits are acrylic, but he also makes digital art and even has two printmaking setups. No one has to light a fire under him. Before we left he wanted to log on to take a look at this website. He uses Linux, and is very enthusiastic about it. I'm going to have to try it for myself one day. He went to jeffandjanice.com, trying it with two different browsers. One of them wasn't configured for Flash, so it didn't display the animation or the menu. That means that any of you who don't have the plugin can't access my sailing pages or the old house pages. I hadn't thought of that. I'll have to add some links to the page. So now Mardi Gras is over for another year. Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, when the faithful will be seen all over town sporting a smudge of ashes on their foreheads. A fitting start to the 40 day period of atonement. btw: Here is Mark Richard's website. Monday, February 11, 2002 More public art. Here's a statue of Hadrian that dates to 127 A.D. According to one source, it is the only full length statue of the emperor to have been sculpted in his lifetime. As you can see, it is housed behind glass. It belongs to a local bank, who added a glass addition to the building ("the Hadrian Building") to accommodate it. There's a plaque standing outside of the structure which reads: Hadrian
The dates indicate the years of his reign, not his birth and death. For more reading on Hadrian, go here.
Ugh! I'm still a bit hung over. The second, and last, New Iberia parade was yesterday. We decided to make an event of it, so we invited tons of people over, mostly Janice's family. Her parents, brothers, sisters, their spouses, their children and children's boyfriends, cousins and their husbands, and more. And they all managed to fit in our kitchen. Having a large house is no advantage when entertaining, since everyone wants to congregate in the kitchen. I told Janice we could have bought a 400 square foot house and still throw parties, as long as the whole house was a kitchen.
It was another short parade. Seemed to be over in no time at all, but we weren't exactly on the route. The bands and dancers fed in a block down from us, so all that passed our house was the floats. Our group made out well in catching throws. We had the two targets that Mardi Gras krewes like most: little kids and pretty teenage girls. They made out like bandits. I was hoping there would be big heads this year. You know, those big-head costumes you see in the movies whenever they show Mardi Gras scenes. Those seemed to only exist in the movies, but last year we actually had some in the New Iberia parade. I was hoping to photograph them this year and post the pictures, but alas, everyone had normal size heads this year. After the parade, everybody stuck around for more food and drink, and finally the crowd filtered down to me and Janice and her brother's family, plus Bryan, who lives in our garage apartment. Somehow, the conversation came around to a suggestion that we all go sit on the roof. We call this "playing Third Rock", like on the TV show. If you look at my old-house pages, you'll see that we're uniquely set up for this. We go upstairs, climb out of a window, and we're on the roof of the front porch. We kicked back on the roof for a while, drinking the last of the wine and shooting the breeze. I don't think I realized how drunk we were. We had no business going out on the roof. After we went to bed, Janice was seized with a sudden sickness and dashed to the bathroom. When I left her this morning, she wasn't much better. Well, that's what Mardi Gras is for, a few weeks of debauchery followed by a 40-day recovery. I'll post pictures when I get home, if they came out well. Friday, February 08, 2002
I just found FreeTranslation.com (thanks to DrunkenLosers.com), and repeated one of the drunken loser experiments. I took the math question below, translated it into German, then back into English. Here's what I got:
Do if you a halfpint of half and half have, and you pour half therefrom from, which is the sterns left? For real-world translation gaffs, try Engrish.com (courtesy of Mike)
Jeff's math question of the day:
If you have a halfpint of Half and Half, and you pour half of it out, what the heck is left? New Iberia public art #2 Here's a painting on the wall of the house across the street from my house. You can see another view of the same house in a blog I did about narcissus a week or so ago. The owners recently re-painted in a painted-lady color scheme and hired an artist to paint murals on the house... yes, on the house. It was an interesting process to watch. Not the artwork, the house painting! They changed their minds about the color scheme, often after an entire section had been painted, changing from one radical collection of hues to another. At one point, the front of the house had been painted, then adorned with a mural of egrets and parrots, then painted over again! Main Street is a one-way street, and the mural faces opposite the flow of traffic, so you can only see this picture while on foot. But that doesn't make it a hidden treasure, since the house gets plenty of attention from tourists walking the street. It's a highly photographed house. I've seen people set up tripods in front of my house to photograph it (alas, my own home is universally ignored by tourists. I refuse to compete). According to rumor, the scene depicts a steamboat which was owned by the homeowner's grandfather, and was used for... what was it? Whatever steamboats were used for back in those days. I have to go by rumors, because these are the only neighbors we still haven't met, after living here for eight years. Few people on our street seem to have met them. They are extremely private people. I know what you're thinking: why would such recluse people go to so much trouble to draw attention to themselves? We may never know. What we do know is that they have contributed to the scant collection of public art in New Iberia. For that, I salute them.
Jeff's lesson of the day is entitled "Vary Your Shtick"
Anyone who teaches any kind of class to adults has a repertoire of jokes and anecdotes to keep the subject interesting. I've been teaching my foster-care-slash-adoption class for seven years now and I have my own material to add a bit of spice to the dry curriculum. We all do this (except for those people who bore you out of your skull). Shtick consists of little observations, truisms, bromides, and opinions. Anyone who's done any substantial amount of training will have a mental rolodex of these tidbits to pull out when needed. "Why are you telling us this, Jeff?" Today, just down the hall from my office, a lady was presenting the same material that she presented yesterday. I was in yesterday's class, so I caught all of her shtick already. Today, I could hear her presentation echoing down the hall, and her shtick is identical to yesterday's. Even the smallest, most "spontaneous" flourishes were being repeated right on cue, just as she did yesterday and probably every time she's given this material. And there's so much of it! She's one of those trainers who uses a lot of gimmickry and props (not my style, but it can work well). How on earth does she keep it all in order and scripted? So next time you teach a class, don't use all of your material every time. It's just not good form. (I should add "in my opinion," but since this is my website, that's a given.) Thursday, February 07, 2002 The weather's finally good enough to start that very brief series on the public art of New Iberia. I begin by stepping out my front door and snapping this picture of one (really two, since it's back to back) of Paul Schexnayder's paintings. Paul's sign tells you a lot about his art, since it is indistinguishable from something he might have hung in a gallery. It serves as his portfolio, his business sign for his studio, and as his street address. Paul is a young man, a few years younger than JeffAndJanice, but has established himself quickly as New Iberia's favorite son. Not only is his art fun and whimsical, but Paul is a truly lovable guy. I've never heard anyone say a single negative thing about him. Come to think of it, I've never heard him say anything negative about anyone else. (That's a trait I'd like to copy, but as I have told you before, you can't hide who you are.) His art is usually painted on found objects, some of which retain their original utilitarian function, such as chairs. He has published a substantial collection of prints as well. I'm sorry to say, I've never bought one of his paintings. Partly for budgetary reasons, and partly because it's hard to find a place in my too-traditional home for his works. I originally wanted to have a more eclectic interior, but it just hasn't shaped up that way. Not everyone can boast of living next door to an artist. I really do need to buy a piece. Visit Paul's website to see more. Wednesday, February 06, 2002
Could this be the end of the computer mouse? Tuesday, February 05, 2002Monday, February 04, 2002
I watch one football game every year. Spectator sports rank about as high with me as award shows, which I find intolerable. But I have to say, my one game of the year was well worth watching. You already know what happened, and you won't want to hear a recap from someone who has no idea what he was watching, so I won't even try.
I watch that one game for one reason. It always comes attached to a party of some kind. This year, Wilda and Al invited us over at the last minute. They hadn't been invited to a Super Bowl party and neither had we (very unusual. Wilda and Al are social animals. Somewhere there's an invitation lost in the mail, I'm sure) so it was just the four of us, a pot of chili, and a variety of wines. Yes, I'm cutting back on alcohol, but wine is a major part of any Wilda and Al gathering, and you just have to make up for it during the rest of the week. We had spent the day in Opelousas, eating gumbo with Janice's family, then digging up banana trees from Mack and Denise's new house. Mack hates banana trees because they're invasive. The new house has a small yard, but in my back yard, an invasive plant would hardly make a dent, so I wanted them. Their back yard could easily be transformed into a New Orleans style courtyard. If you've ever been in one of the old original New Orleans courtyards, you've wanted to have one of your own. But you have to have a small yard to make it work. We have a smallish side yard that would do, and I have plans in my head, but too many other projects to get done first. Denise tells me that she's a regular reader of my blogs. I have a small but steady audience who read these pages nearly every day, so I like to know who they are. Since I'm writing in reverse chronological order today, we arrive now at Saturday. We drove out to Cypremort Point just to be there. We messed around with the boat a little, and were approached by an old sailor who's given up sailing and wanted to sell me a very fine sailboat for a bargain price. This is exactly the thing I was hoping would happen, but it was the wrong boat. I've decided that I am definitely a trailer sailor. His boat, though only 24 feet long, was a heavy fixed keel boat that wouldn't lend itself to trips out of state, so the bargain goes to someone else. We stayed there until dark, watching the pelicans and the sunset, then had a cheeseburger at the tattered old grocery and grille that every marina seems to have. btw: Since I have broken with tradition and started to post color pictures, I'm planning a short series on the public art of New Iberia. It has to be a short series, because New Iberia isn't known for its public art, but what we do have is worth mentioning. Taking pictures during daylight hours will be a problem, since it's nearly dark by the time I can home and get out, but I'll get it done. Stay tuned. Friday, February 01, 2002
The Troubled Diva's 40 days of memories has inspired me to share more of my own. I'm not going to post a memory a day, like he's doing. That wouldn't be sustainable. But I'll give you one from time to time as the mood strikes. Today's memory is called "Frank".
Frank was my first stepfather. My parents divorced when I was no older than one or two, and I don't have even the faintest memories of their married years, so Frank is the earliest father figure I can remember. Just guessing here, I would say that my mother was no older than 19 when she married Frank, and he was considerably older. I remember he was balding and he was involved in hotel management. He, like my father, was from Mississippi. Frank was a player. I don't know the details, but I remember many times over the years family members spoke of his accelerated aging and attributed it to his fast lifestyle. I remember he was one of the first people to own a Mustang. It was bronze colored. That's when I learned a new word "bronze". Appropriate when you think about it. What better material to glamorize an old shoe. When I was just a toddler, he packed us all up and moved us to Las Vegas, where he had some kind of hotel job. That was about 40 years ago, so you can imagine what the town was like at that time. Las Vegas was just getting established as a gambling mecca. I, of course, have no memories of any of that. My only memory of our Las Vegas days was that I fell down a set of stairs and busted my chin. And to be honest, I can't swear that that really happened. I do remember being in the car with Frank in a hotel parking garage (probably in Baton Rouge, after returning from Nevada), when he was talking with an attractive woman in a familiar way. When she left, I said "who was that, Daddy?" He said "That's my girlfriend. Don't tell Mama." He was probably joking. I can't imagine leaking such information to a pre-schooler, knowing how they talk, but he said not to tell, so I kept quiet about it. It seems like we were in that same parking garage another time when he and my mother were fighting and he gave her a check, which she ripped to pieces and threw at him. We also lived in Jackson, Mississippi during the Frank years. I say "we", but it was just us kids. Mom had packed us up and sent us to live with Frank's parents for reasons she's never fully explained, so I had the opportunity to live on the farm for a while. I have clearer memories of the farm than of anything else from that time in my life. If you've ever lived on a real farm, you can never forget, no matter how young you were. There are smells that I can still conjure up in my memory all these decades later. I was a city kid, so everything was novel and exciting. Gravel roads were a fascinating concept to me. We had a step aunt and uncle who lived in a trailer. I had never known anyone who lived in one, and it just seemed so interesting to me. Believe it or not, through my entire childhood, into my teens, I knew almost no one who lived in a trailer. That's unusual for a Southern kid, but as I said, I was from the city. My mother tells me that she removed us from the Mississippi relatives because my brother and I weren't being treated well, at least not as well as my baby sister, who was Frank's daughter, and the granddaughter of our Mississippi hosts. I don't remember being slighted while there, but I suppose it was possible. As I recall, we called Frank "Dad" from the beginning. I remember meeting other kids who also called him Dad, after he and my mom split up. I don't know if they were his children, or his newest crop of stepchildren, but he did have a way of endearing kids, as I recall. The last time I saw him was many years later, at my sister's funeral. He introduced my brother and me as "my boys", which really surprised me. My brother and I each took one of his arms and helped him approach the casket. He was devastated at losing the same daughter twice. With the thin ties between him and us, we still felt some kind of bond. My biological father was there that day too. We hadn't seen him in years. When you're sixteen, a sibling's funeral is surreal enough without having all three of your fathers together for the first time. You could have picked emotions out of a hat that day. Any one would do. Frank was abusive to my mother. At least, she tells me that he was. The abuse would have taken place outside of my presence, since I'm sure I would have remembered witnessing it. But they stayed married for at least a few years, and bought my grandparents house when they moved out. They took over the payments and nearly caused a foreclosure, according to my step grandfather. Mom was really still a kid, but Frank knew better. I can't help but wonder how many other step children Frank has had over the years, and what experiences they recall. That's enough. I really need a cup of coffee. 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