A funny thing happened on the way to dying. At first, I thought life was going to be simple and easy. Then I thought, life was just differant for me then for you. After thinking about this for some time, I now think life is just a story with a beginning, a body and an ending. You know, Once upon a time, then the part about falling down the hill with a pail of water with Jill tumbling after and finally the part about, then they lived happily ever after. That was what I thought, until I started realizing the facts of life. I'll sorta list the facts, as I see them, leaving out some of the more gory parts and personal facts that most of you would not be interested in anyway.

First, there was the time about 1 years old when I could fit into my grandma,s wood box. That was okay, as I was small and grandma never picked me up and threw me into the firebox. On several occassions she had a look like she had reason to do so.

Then there was the time, about two years old, when my first weasel grabbed me by the wrist as I was trying to carry it home and it wouldn't let go until mom beat it to death in the back porch. That was my first exposure to the traumatic aspect of life.

Then, I remember clearly, the time about three, when I put my tongue on the doorknob, in about January, when the doorknob was white and sorta looking good and left apart of me that I never quite got back. Again, this should have been a clue of what was to come.

I remember the middle early life part of life where I counted what must be at least a gazillion dozen minnows, put up an ice house full of ice every winter, reput it up every summer for a bunch of people from Waterloo and Chicago who could not even spell Kabetogama or Walleye and delivered mail and bait 50 miles down the lake whenever the weather was bad. I think dad had it in for me!

High School was rather uneventful as I never did clear 7 feet in the pole vault, played in the Dirty Dozen and was constantly bawled out by Mr Jung, the shop teacher, for whistling every day. He hated it but I actually thought I was pretty good at it. That, of course, ended my music career.

Then I almost don't remember that part about Viet-Nam but I do remember that part about no one thanking me for my little part, except for the state giving me about $2.00/day in that check we all got. I still remember the check, for, I think, about $900.00, but still don't recollect anybody saying thanks. I was expecting a parade or something I guess, as thats the part I remember about the "big one" WW II. That also taught me something about expecting things.

I heard a lot about the depression from mom and dad, it still has an effect on them I think, but I never thought I would expierience one in 2009, but here it is and it has barly started. I wonder if I can stand by the Ranier tracks and pick up coal for the stove or potatos from Manitoba, the conductors throw out, knowing the kids standing there are hungrey?

I remember the part about somebody called the Federal Government taking away our land and our way of life because a couple of drunks were going to be arrested by our local Sheriff and then calling it a National Park that nobody has ever visited and thus also causing the demise of our old resorts and many other older business's including the demiss of our town and the insulite mill. The Iltis Indian looked better at the Iltis Drug store then in the Library.

Well, I left out the part about raising my girls and the girl friends and travel to exotic places and exotic jobs and such. I left out the deer, ducks and mink and beaver but was thinking about the here and now. You know its kinda funny...Like another member of the class of "65" has mentioned, I probably have reached the point where there never will be a President that will be older then me and well, that makes me an "old fart". I find myself getting up in the morning and reading the paper, just to see if I am not on the "obit" page. Its kinda strange to be reading of classmates and those that are younger then me on that page until I started thinking, thats the funny part of dying. That is, looking at the Daily, just to see if your still around. I guess thats one of the reasons I like to blog, It lets me know I am still around in the morning. I left out the parts about the Czech. Border and the Soviet listening post at the Schonsee crossing and the parts about the many times I was exposed to nerve agents at the Arsenal. I left out the parts about the VIP Christmas parties at 1600 Penn Ave, but those are my memories. Our family seems to like to live to about the mid nintys or so, so I hope that means I'll be around to blog for over 30 more years. By then I am sure we will have mastered the art of telepathy and I can just "channel" my thoughts to yours. I sure hope you don't channel your thoughts to me as that would just about kill me and that would not be funny at all.

The real funny part about dying is the part about the the Funeral Homes charging you so much to die. There has got to be a "cheaper way to go". I think I'll just live forever, but of course, not in this life.