The beginning

 I was born...........or at least I was told that I was born, on a Thursday in March of 1959. That's all the information that I know of my birth, with the exception of my biological mother not being married, and so she was unable to keep me. I know next to nothing about my biological father, other than he was married...just to somebody else, which isn't much help to a baby!
From then on it all gets rather vague for about 3 months...which when your 8 years old, doesn't seem that long...but when you've had your own children you realize that 3 months is quite a substantial time...filled with diapers and crying, and nursing and crying, and peeing and (yes you guessed) crying...well you get the picture.  I have no idea who was around in the orphanage or where ever I was, to burp me and bathe me and generally love me but I hope someone was.  Anyway, then I was adopted out to a couple who had already adopted one daughter, and they wanted another! I was delivered to them, sight unseen, and there it is...I went from having nothing and nobody to having a Mother, a Father, and a sister!

Hello, How are you,...have you been alright?

Hello....haven't seen you in awhile, and there's a host of reasons for that....distracted by worldwide disaster...packing for end times that didn't come (shoot); worrying about my mother who has recently been admitted to a Nursing Home, but we're the only ones who know that; my father of 86 years young, forgot that he wasn't Bruce Willis, and climbed through the escape hatch of his stalled elevator...pried the doors open, and then proceeded to climb 12 sets of stairs to get into his apartment, whereupon he promptly had a stroke, but didn't feel the need to bother anyone for 2+ days when my sister Angela (who is in running for the sainthood against that sweet little kid, but...hey she's my sister...she gets my vote) flies into action organizing a rescue and  retrieve...Dad was retrieved and taken to hospital while Mom was rescued from being alone even if she wouldn't have noticed. Then I decided that my angina was on overdrive when after an hour and more that 3 doses of nitroglycerine weren't working and off I go to the Hospital in Smith Falls, chauffeured by my Great Friend Berrnice, as she negotiated every dark twist and turn in the road, and chatted with me to keep me calm.  It was only about an hour or 2 into my hospital stay when they decided to keep me, and I watched Bernice's eyelids straining to stay open, when she revealed to me that although she wasn't in bed when my son Matt called for help...she had just taken her sleeping medication!!!!!!!!  I shuffled over and was pretty sure we could both fit on that gurney, but Bernice hung in for another hour, and then much to my dismay, headed out into a woozy night saying "Place me in God's hands"....and so I did!
There's more but...that's for another day!