Mandy's Glade

With the family out of town this past weekend, I needed to keep busy in order not to feel alone.  My younger brother is at a trade show in Boston this week - so I continue to be alone.  In order to keep busy and my mind off the "not good" thoughts of just why I was alone, I went to the houseboat resolved to do a laundry list of activities.

I got a late start on Friday (messing with my Dad's computer was slow going!) but Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny and not too unpleasantly warm, so I headed over to Chestertown's "City Dock" and looked at the Schooner Sultana, the first I have seen her this year.  She's been busy, out of port, on "road trips" ("river trips?) to places like Saint Micheal's and Baltimore.  From there, I went to the local Farmers Market and looked but didn't buy.

I went to the supermarket. My shopping list was simple:

Kitty Litter - Check! Wet Cat Food - Check!  Laundry Detergent - Check! The sign on the reverse had a different list: Paper Towels - Check! Dog Food - Check! Dog Biscuits - Check!  Leaving the supermarket, I went to the Humane Society of Kent County with a trunk full of goodies where they were received with happy smiles.  Perhaps too, Ruby was smiling also.

From there, I took a quick swim and then headed to the Atkins Arboretum where I spent several hours walking through the meadows, lost in thought:

..and into the woods.

...amd before I knew it, I had walked nearly 7 miles and my lingering thought was that of the goat herd I had seen - and how cute the goat was that stood on top of the picnic table, overlooking her domain.

I returned to the houseboat and took a most refreshing swim, before settling down to read for the evening, a history book I got from the Chestertown Library about the "resettlement" of the Native Americans from Georgia to Oklahoma back in the 1830s.  A most terrible and sad moment in American History.

Sunday morning found me restless and anxious - so I hit the road and headed home.  Once there, I decided I needed to do some tree-hugging.  So I headed to Valley Forge National Historic Park and feeling like I was nearly my old-self as far as walking form, selected a combination old-new trek.  I combined the "Pawling's Farm" shown below with the "Deer hunt Walk," followed by the Schuylkill River Trail, and returning to my car on the "River Trail."

Pawling's Farm

I've not been "up" to walking on the Schuylkill River Trail of late, I think it was a combination of couple factors, my being sub-par with the health issues, and well... the walk takes me past a place with special memories.  Memories, I have been avoiding.

The Schuylkill River Trail is a walk/bike path created from the Pennsylvania Railroad's Schuylkill Branch.  It ran from Philadelphia to the coal counties beyond Pottstown, Reading, Hamburg, and Pottsville.  For a short distance, the abandoned right of way carries the walker (or biker) over the small streams and through the meadows of Valley Forge.

There is a place, where the trail goes over a small stream on an old stone arch culvert/bridge that has some powerful and lingering memories for me.

View from the trail

A while ago, I lost a dear and special friend.  Her name was Mandy, and she lived in far away Australia.  We "met" on-line and talked about everything under the sun.  Her beliefs were odd to me (she was Wiccan) and her speech and mannerisms were intriguing and different (should I say, "unique"?)  I found myself learning from her and enjoying her "company."  One of the things we talked about was, where we would go if we were to ever meet - and at this quiet little spot, I envisioned us having a picnic, while seeing the many deer wandering about.

...and so I have, perhaps unconsciously, avoided the place since she passed away at a far too young age - apparently mostly from giving up the battle against the many injuries life inflicted on her.

As a strong-minded, determined, independent, woman, she had her opinions and wasn't afraid to voice them.  Among those opinions, were her religious beliefs.

Wiccan teachings say nothing of "the afterlife."  Many of them believe that when someone dies, if they mourn at all, it is for their loss, for the loss of the person to the world, for themselves, their family, and for what the person could've done had they lived. Few Wiccans mourn the fact that a person has died.

So to honor that - I mourned what she might have done - had she lived on.  Mandy's ashes were scattered by her children at a very pretty seaside village called Port Fairy, located on Giffiths Island, Victoria, Australia.  There is a lighthouse there - near the waves and sea creatures that Mandy adored - and this is where her children celebrated her life.

I held my own celebration of her life ... here, in this quiet little glade.  As I pondered what she might have done had she lived, I came to appreciate the Wiccan ideas of "do no harm to others" and Mandy's thoughts on "pantheism" (the belief that everything composes an all-encompassing, immanent God, or that the universe (or nature) is identical with divinity. Pantheists do not believe in a personal or anthropomorphic god.)  Here I was - "held in the cusp of nature" - and alone with my thoughts - but not alone... I was connected to everyone and everything - through some deeper, unseen but powerful links.

So, having spent some quiet moments of reflection - with bitter and regretful thoughts turning to far more positive ones - I left the glade - and although I think Mandy was "not there,"  she was in some way, "connected to there."  As are each of us - interconnected - and a part of each other.

I headed back to my car along the river, past the turtles,

..and over the stream that created the glade,

 ... and past the tree that reminds me of two other dear friends (that I've neglected of late)

The walk went steadily.  I soon put seven miles on the trusty pedometer - and was happy enough to see my car waiting for me in the parking lot where I had left it.

As for the deer... I saw none of them - but I'm sure they were there... somewhere.

Monday Morning Greetings

When I got to work this morning, this is the scene that greeted me.

Sometime Friday night or Saturday morning, high winds came through town and ripped all sorts of branches from the trees. The office building next door to mine suffered a worse fate. An old, 100 year plus oak tree toppled over and into the building.


The complete front of the building was damaged, the roof destroyed and the screened in porch leveled. You can see the size of the trunk - all that remains of the oak tree (besides the yard debris) in the lower right.

My building, the one were I work shoveling snow, cutting grass and working on computer programs was also damaged.


I guess, in a way, I'm fortunate that "all" the damage appears to be torn gutter, ripped up shingle and flashing, mangled air conditioner coolant lines, and tons of yard debris.


I'm going to be busy cleaning up in the heat - and dealing with the insurance people. Oh joy.

I might not get to your blogs for a while - I've my hands full and am a bit upset.

Only The Heart May Know

Silent sea, tell this to me,
Where are the children that we used to be?


(Silent sea): At picture shows where nobody goes and only the heart can see.

Starry skies, soft lullabies.
Where do they go when their melody dies?


(Starry skies): To a day... far, far away, that only the heart may know.

Friends we knew follow us, through all of the days of our lives.
Love we shared waits for us there where our wishes forever reside.

Falling tears, memories' mirrors.
Where are the summers, oh, where are the years?


(Falling tears): Carried far to a wandering star that only the heart may know.

Friends we knew follow us through all of the days of our lives.
Love we shared waits for us there where our wishes forever reside...

Starry skies, soft lullabies
Where do they go when their melody dies?


(Starry skies): To a day... far, far away, that only the heart may know...that only the heart may know...

Dan Fogelberg and Emmylou Harris

The Journey - Morri Sims

As I promised, here is the story of the "painting" I showed you a short while ago. The artist's name is Morri Sims and she lives along the St. John's River outside of Jacksonville, Florida. Some of you may remember her as Gypsy-He♥rt.

As she says on her website, "Whether deep in a woodland or looking at a simple still life in the studio it is all about the energies I see and feel. I then find myself painting, drawing, and pasting on canvas and paper--what I am unable to say with words."

Many of her paintings are evocative - those "energies" she speaks of can cause a mental and physical tingle - when she captures them on canvas - such as those energies found (here).

We are left to ponder the energies she felt and couldn't put to words when she painted "The Journey." She painted the original for a tactile show for the students from the Florida School for the Deaf and the Blind in mind. The students were not only permitted to touch the surface, they were encouraged to do so, in order to "see" it.

What I have is a reproduction of the painting, It has another layer; one over top of the oils and canvas, for it was created for a different reason.

Back around mid-2008, Gypsy-Hea♥rt, posted this painting in her blog (this blog still exists but unfortunately is no longer updated) and I found it to be rather intriguing. To me, the path curving over the horizon leads to a hidden destination. The journey of the person along the way was observed by the timeless spirit of the universe (as symbolically depicted by the wry smile of on the sage full moon). The overarching (and perhaps overbearing) trees offer both the promise of sustenance and fear of predators. But through all that - it is "The Journey" through life that makes life worthwhile and perhaps too, will be the final reaching of the unknown (i.e., hidden) destination.


The thought of it being painted for blind people heightened my interest in it for reasons those of you that know me understand. Furthermore, my older brother had nearly taken a job at this very same school - and I myself am very hearing impaired, so there are a collection of links of sorts to this very school.

And so this painting was much on my mind when a young woman blogger came to my attention because she was terminally ill with cancer. There was no thought of anything other than how to show her support. With the help of some of the generous people working in my office, and Gypsy-Hea♥rt's willing and most generous assistance to the cause, this reproduction was created, it is a "giclee'," a fine art digital print made on canvas by an advanced professional ink-jet printer. The original painting was purchased by a blind teacher from the school and is in her home in St. Augustine, Florida.

When the giclee' was ready to be shipped to the young woman, no one could get her address - and she ceased to answer her e-mails. Fearing the worse, I had someone in my office call the several hospitals in the woman's hometown including the one we were told she had entered, and found that no one knew of her. We later learned that the young woman, in need of attention, had "faked" her terminal illness.

I have been around the Internet long enough (basically since the year it was created) to know of the unseemly and nasty things that go on within it - and I know of the beauty and power that it has to bring people together. I am not too proud to say my instincts had been wrong - and I had been badly and completely fooled. I had made an embarrassing mistake.

At that point in time, we were faced with trying to decide what was the right thing to do?

The giclee' (as well as the hopes and expectations of those that had generously helped bring it into being) languished in limbo -- until eventually it was decided to have it journey to a local art gallery near Jacksonville, where a friend of the artist had a struggling business. It is through the artist, I "met" this gallery owner, and became friends with her. She was always bright, cheery, humble, and very helpful when I called her. I did some business with her and she was the perfect business person. Her business, however, struggled. So the giclee was offered to her at "cost" and should she sell it - any profit would be hers. The economy being what is it, is not one that favors those that purchase the art she had available - or the framing work she did and she closed up shop to pursue other opportunities.

So the giclee' took, what I would imagine to be, a sad journey back to the artist and was stored away. About a year later, the artist had a giveaway drawing on her blog just before closing it. She offered any of her available glicee' artwork to the winner. I was very surprised when I learned I had won. Moreover, when I looked through all the artworks she offered looking for one that "spoke" to me, I mentally stumbled when I found..."The Journey" was available.


From Morri Sims' blog, I found a comment I had posted - back when we learned that the young woman blogger had lied about such a thing as being gravely ill with cancer. I have removed her name and edited it slightly - but quote it in full.----"Hmmm.. The path taken by 'The Journey,' - how encompassing those two small words are! I bet no one ever suspected their scope at first; [it] has brought about a number of personal journeys by those that 'know' [the young woman blogger] – some of these were journeys into the soul and into the darkness of the mind and the brightness of the heart – and for some, along the way, a number of battles with ethics and ponderings of how to 'do the right thing' were fought, within and without.

It is distressing in that there is no obvious right or wrong 'thing to do' [with the giclee' created with love and generosity for the purpose of support of a fellow journey taker] and here the needs of many when balanced against the needs of one has led [us] ... to a difficult situation.

Anyone with an ounce of compassion (and Gypsy-Heart has far more than an ounce) will feel [the young woman blogger]’s distress and care enough that she finds a better place – 'The Journey' [that the young woman blogger] must take – as with all of us, is a deeply human, very personal, individual, and sadly, often a lonely one. And as [another blogger] says, everyone is worthy of 'the gift from the kindness of [one's] heart' – and that gift will pour forth unabated – on its own volition and in its own time.

[Directed to the young woman blogger] – it is hoped you continue onwards to the realization of your own personal worth and merit – and that you learn to love yourself – there are many people in the world that will, and can, help you along the way – but in the end, we are all responsible for ourselves and must make our own way, making our own difficult choices on our own journeys. It is this individuality that can give us dignity and bring about great joy.----
So there you have it, the reason why my head overflows when I look at this work of art.

I wish to thank a couple people for helping me the writing of this blog entry, they know who they are - With the writing of this entry and their helpful words, I can bring myself some closure - and to demarcate the change I would re-title the giclee', but it already has the perfect title: The Journey.

Enough is Enough -

It's been a long, hard, sort of week - so many of you are having a rough time, Dorkys with her Toby, Punkn with her ear, Parsley with seasonal blues, Aunt of 14 with a job prospect that didn't pan out due to her "handicap", many others with health issues, some with major job dissatisfaction, others with family having legal hassles... it seemed nearly every corner of my blogosphere was ailing. And then last night...

Last night, while reading an e-mail from a dear, heartbroken, friend who lost her father to cancer Sunday morning, my phone bleated, I had just gotten a text message from my Mom.

"Rough day today, Molly is no longer with us."


Molly enjoying a late autumn day in a warming sun. She was a happy, gentle soul. Content to just be with you at your side.


Molly got a little hard of hearing in her last years, so she slept at the backdoor so no one came or went without her knowing it. She wanted to be able to greet her family warmly when they arrived.


On the way home from work last night, it was drizzling lightly when I saw the clouds begin to thin and the sky brighten towards the west, so I pulled in to the parking lot at the Methacton Mennonite Church ... As I got out of the car, the sun broke through the overcast and was setting through the huge canopy of the 375+ year old Methacton Oak, casting a weird sort of light on the almost as ancient cemetery this magnificent tree towers over.

I walked the rows of gravestones rather aimlessly, looking for "Rittenhouse" and saw the many "Heebner"s and "Detwielers". All early settlers in my area.

Was the odd light...telling me something?

I felt uneasy, as if some mumbled voice was saying something, but I could not call it up to the forefront of my jumbled thoughts. Was it saying, "Some bad news is on the way"? or was it saying, "The dreary gloom will break and the sun will shine again - take courage"?

This morning, things are a little better - someone successfully carved a pumpkin, someone recently bravely conquered a leaf monster making me very proud of her. Another person, in the throes of ending a bad relationship, got a very cool job. And best of all, a certain kid named Ryan videoed antics cracked me up.

There are many kinds of shifting light, the brightening gloom, the clear sunshine drifting through puffy clouds, the pink colored sunset fading to violet and blackness, and there is a light that comes from within us and shines with various levels of intensity - depending on our moods.

Today, my feeble, flickering light shines through the colored lenses of another's handiwork... the combination of light and glass glows softly as I hope to offer comfort to those that are grieving, both family and friends... as well as those that are troubled... I haven't the ability to do much more - and must take leave for a while - but you will be with me - and as surely as you see orange cones on your daily path, I will see you through the many things that remind me of all of you.

Take care and see you soon -

Dandelion Break

Out of Order

I'm going to be "out of order" for awhile. I'll be back after a break.

Gone Fishing

On Saturday, I went to the western end of the Perkiomen trail and into Green Lane Park - As a young boy, my parents often took my brothers and I to this park to swim and then later to have a picnic diner.

Sometimes we would go to the Candlewick Restaurant (which burned down when I was in school and the grounds are now a housing development) and sometimes we went to the smorgasbord served at the Schwenksville firehouse (which now has a nice BBQ Chicken event but no smorgasbord dinners) instead of grilling burgers and hot dogs in the park. No matter where we ate, it was always tasted really good after hours of swimming in the lake.

I put the pictures I took on Saturday (here). I hope you will take a peek.

This park, the largest of the Montgomery County parks, consists of over 3400 acres and three beautiful lakes totaling 870 acres.

Just to illustrate - a typical block in Manhattan (New York City) is about 6.4 acres, meaning the lakes at Green Lane Park would cover about 135 city blocks!

It is miles from one end of the park to the other end and it is laced with walking (and horseback riding) trails. Unfortunately, you can no longer swim here so that is a now just a fond memory of the past.


Could this be Cappy and I fishing in Deep Creek Lake?

The road from Green Lane goes to Red Hill and on to East Greenville. Colorful, huh?

I will be very busy over the next view days - so if I don't get the chance later - I want to wish you all, a very Happy (and safe) Thanksgiving holiday.

Dandelion Break

I have to take a break.

I keep hearing two things over and over in my head - I've barely slept at all in a week.

...Tinnitus at its worse...

"Mommy, help me, Mommy! Help me! Mo! Mo! (gasping) Mommy!"


The other thing is..."You missed that exit a long time ago and you are on the road to nowhere now."

Be well and always dream big.

My Hands

Tonight, I put myself in the figurative "timeout chair" and took a long walk to re-think about something that had transpired earlier in the day.

After a while - I got hot and sweaty - I saw some deer - and really didn't look at them much - being lost in thought - I was nearly run over by some people on bikes - but I really didn't look at them much either.


I ended up looking at my hands. They have been with me for a while now and they have been to many places and through a lot.

They have been mistreated - forced to hold a credit card and scrape ice from a windshield until they bled - been burned by spilled battery acid - have oozed from poison ivy rash - been seared by a soldering iron - stapled to a roof by a power shingle gun - and hacked by a wood shop power saw.

They, somehow through all that - remember textures - the soft pillow case at night - the rough permanence of a rocky wall - the smooth gloss of a polished piece of wood - the pleasant soak of warm water while washing dishes - the cooling touches of falling rain drops - and the silky softness of a dog's ear being rubbed.

They often wave - sometimes hello - sometimes goodbye - and sometimes with only one finger - be it the "we are number one" finger or the other finger that says something else entirely.

They sometimes shake - be it from nervous excitement - the cold - or clasped in a handshake.


They are often swollen and vacillate between numbness and sharp stabbing pain - they have no great skill or exceptional ability - the piano mocks them - painting even with a roller challenges them - sign language leaves them "tongue tied" - tying knots at the dock frequently baffles them - and sometimes just holding up a box or a drinking glass takes a bit of effort.

Each Monday morning, after a weekend away from a keyboard, they always need to be retaught where each of the letters are - and they insist on spelling the word "the" as "teh" no matter what day of the week.


They haven't done a lot of things - they haven't rocked a baby to sleep in a crib - or changed a diaper - or wiped a driblet of drool away from a face just learning where its mouth is - or lifted a car seat in or out of a car - or pushed a stroller through the mall.

They haven't held someone else's hands - or caressed a cheek - or rubbed someones shoulders - in a decade or more - they might as well be retired or put away in the back of a closet.

They do, after a fashion, hammer out words at the computer - sometimes slower than my mind wants to go - sometimes faster than my mind thinks things through - and sometimes they hammer them out without my mind...paying much mind to the words that they are forming.

Words that...can have unbelievable power - the power to lift someone from a dark place - the power to bring about a smile or a laugh or warm and happy tear - words of encouragement - words of sympathy and empathy - words of cheer - and congratulations - words of prayer - and shared hopefulness - and sometimes shared sadness.


They can also cause hurt. They have thrown rocks and sticks and held baseball bats, golf clubs, and hammers that collided with unprotected places causing pain and disfigurement.

Most recently they formed words that were thoughtless and hurtful. My hands could point - they have a finger that does that - to someone else or something else - but...

...they are my hands.

And the thoughtless words were mine. So now I force my hands to hammer out a few more words - words that they are familiar with - since they frequently make mistakes - words like "I am sorry" and "Please forgive me".

My hands are often clumsy - and don't go or do what I want them to do - but they can't run off without me - and I won't let them shirk being responsible for having caused someone to be hurt.

I can't promise they won't slip up again - but I'll try to do my best with them - they are the only hands I've got.

I am sorry.

Dandelion Break

The rain falls hard at the boathouse where the Garden Gala was held

This past weekend I went to the Antique Boat Museum in Clayton, NY and the Thousand Islands region of the Saint Lawrence Seaway. I even visited Schermerhorn's Harbor (but didn't take any pictures there).

I took lots of pictures - but I don't know if it was the gloomy oft-times rainy weather - but I just got more and more depressed about being alone. I got to thinking how much I wished I were twenty years younger and a lot less stupid, or socially inept. I might write an entry or two later about the trip. I have uploaded some of the pictures into flickr.

The view from the window at the Bed and Breakfast

A very decorative cutwater

Inside one of the many Antique Boat Museum's buildings during the rain

Miss Thousand Islands II rides off with some people enjoying the Garden Gala

The Zipper returns to the museum's boathouse with a load of passengers

...I'll be back when I get things together again...


Perhaps you will enjoy a short cruise in the meantime.

Memorial Day Weekend

This Memorial Day weekend I was busy in Chestertown, Maryland helping to get the houseboat "The Water's Edge" shipshape for another boating season. Docking lines needed tying and adjustments, water resupply lines run, the winterized plumbing flushed, the hot water heater reconnected, foodstuffs purchased and stocked away, bedding laid in, boat registration decals applied and so forth. It was a busy weekend.

While there, I saw this car in the marina parking lot and thought, "at least its appropriate." Many of the folks with boats at the Rolph's Wharf marina are older retired folks living out their golden years on the waterfront enjoying the sea breezes and their grand and great-grand children swimming, fishing, flying kites, and enjoying picnics on the boat and beaches.


I busied myself with cleaning the barnacles of both of the boats propellers and prop-shafts, applying new zincs and squaring away the launch and dock lines.


The boat not only floats, it is floating happily in its slip at the dock. The sun was a bit warm and the elbow grease application tired me out a bit so I sat down for a bit and greeted the old "neighbors" with a "happy new (boating) year!" and asked how their winters had treated them.


The old gentleman in the houseboat to the port side was happy to talk to me. He had all the grandkids from one of his 5 children staying with him on his boat - all 5 of them, the mom, along with him and his wife. I think the children range in age from about 4 to 12 or so, such busy bodies they were... always running here and there wanting towels or food or to feed the ducks or to pat the dogs or, or, or... So he came over to the houseboat with me to get some temporary peace and quiet.

Pops, as the grandfather is called by everyone at the marina, served in the US Navy on the ninth Wasp (CV-18) an aircraft carrier built in Quincy, Mass., by the Bethlehem Steel Co. and launched on 17 August 1943. I enjoyed listening to his reaccounting of what he did in the war, fighting in the Pacific. He was at sea for nearly 23 months straight, serving around the Phillipines (Leyte), Wake, Marshall Islands, Marianas, Saipan, Tinian, Iwo Jima, and Guam. Pops is an unpretentious fellow, but the list of places he saw action was an awe-inspiring litany. Asked what he remembers most and he answered he "still remembers how good the ice cream tasted when they got to San Diego, California after their tour (and the war) was over."

He got up and went to his houseboat - while I went to the grocery store and bought a couple gallons of ice cream, some plastic bowls and spoons and brought it back to the dock. For the next hour, all of his grandkids as well as about 15 people in the boats along the dock, got to sample some "San Diego" ice cream and hear about just how special Pops is, even if he doesn't think so.

Happy Memorial Day - Honor those that served.

There are some things money can't buy...

Parking in the short term lot at Philadelphia International Airport - $7.00.


Meeting a friend for the first time in 15 years - Priceless. Karla and her son James in the luggage claim area after flying in from Texas.

Filling the tank full of gas and driving 320 miles - $80.00


Seeing a friend meet their best friend for the first time - Priceless. Left to right, Alice Kay's husband, Terri, Alice Kay standing behind Karla, and James.

After trying to cram 4 or 5 days of sightseeing into 2 days, I'm in need of a good nap on the sofa. I'll catch up with commenting on your entries soon - and bore you with a story about the Rocky statue at the Art Museum, pictures of a T-Rex eating James' arm off, the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, Valley Forge National Park, Chin Strap Ducks in a feeding frenzy, James and Karla meeting my Moose, Alien Space Spheres and James strange disappearance there, a pictureless rush through Blue Ball, Bird in Hand, Intercourse and Paradise in which we saw the Amish in horse-drawn buggies and hard at work in their fields and washing machines, the Civil War battlefield at Gettysburg, the Roaring Bull ferry landing (but no ferry), and up the river and into the hills of north-central Pennsylvania where I pointed out the Alice Kay Feedmill to my friends but... it was raining... and finally ending up in the Cable Guys Woods in Alice Kay's backyard...

---

"The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration."

Pearl S. Buck (American author, 1938 Nobel Prize for Literature, 1892-1973)

Dandelion Break

As of August 29, 2008 at 7:00 AM
Steps: 4,722,456
Miles: 1984.75
Miles to Canada: 51.25



Some more thoughts to ponder:

The ultimate determinant in the struggle now going on for the world will not be bombs and rockets but a test of wills and ideas - a trial of spiritual resolve: the values we hold, the beliefs we cherish and the ideals to which we are dedicated.

I have wondered at times what the Ten Commandments would have looked like if Moses had run them through the US Congress.

If the Soviet Union let another political party come into existence, they would still be a one-party state, because everybody would join the other party.

One way to make sure crime doesn't pay would be to let the government run it.

We must reject the idea that every time a law's broken, society is guilty rather than the lawbreaker. It is time to restore the American precept that each individual is accountable for his actions.

You can tell alot about a fellow's character by his way of eating jellybeans.

- All quotes attributed to Ronald Reagan


I'm going to be taking a short break - be back after the holiday weekend. Hope you enjoy your family, friends and (those of you in the USA) the holiday. Be safe.