Reality intertrude As MS (multiple Sclerosis) is doing such a fine job of devastating my mortal body, I thought it prudent to begin writing my life story. At least, to recall some parts of it that have had significant impacts on me becoming who I think I am. If I wait for someone else to write it I wont be around read it. If I delay any longer to begin, I may not be able to remember my life at all. I suppose that its normal to want people to say nice things about you, after youre gone. Sometimes, you can make a deal with them to say nice things about you if you will just go. Since I dont have very much to cut a deal with, I figure if I want some nice things said Id better say them myself. Im reminded what I once said about a dog that I had. He never bit anybody I dont remember ever biting anyone, either. Another dog, I adopted, kissed everyone. Although I tried to do that, too, I was never as well received as he was. Cats dont try to kiss you. They spend all of their time licking themselves. A lot of people that Ive met do that. While many things are yet within their power to accomplish, they give up. Ive learned, there is nothing shameful about trying and failing. It was only a shame when I failed to try. We all get to have our share of failures. No one else gets to have them all. If youve never failed, you have probably never tried to do the impossible, like be a good marriage partner, or eat soup with a fork. I get better at being married each time I try it. In this story, I dont think Ill change the names. No one is so innocent that they need protecting. * * * Izee continued
Chapter Two We moved to Izee early Saturday, to the house we had never seen the inside of. Mom was following in the car, Dad commandeering a borrowed pickup with all of our earthly possessions. Robert came with us to Izee, this time. Since Mom would be explaining to him The boardinghouse rules for high school away from home, I rode with Dad thinking it was funny that my brother got to eat more dirt than I did, as they followed us over the miles of unpaved road. Like a filthy phantom from planet dust, Robert kept emerging from the 52 Ford, recovering anything that blew off our loosely tied down load. He looked even scarier when it started to rain. [Continue on in Chapter Two if you still wish to read more.] |
