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I'm thinkin' that we handed out red wine, in red Solo cups, one year at Karla's house. Maybe more than once that Jim and I sat in the driveway in river chairs, grape juice in hand, while we waited on the kids to get back with their hard-earned loot. We had some grateful takers.
The Boy is off with his friends to Diz West for some Halloween revelry and The House Blond has plans for the spookiest day of the year as well. It's been almost two decades since Mrs TWC and I have had no parental obligations on Halloween. That's a disquieting feeling that almost borders on relief.
Disney allows costumes that are in good taste, which means a nay if the House Blond showed up as Pyscho Bride, a role she played a couple of years ago at the ASB haunted house.
Keeping that admonition in mind, The Boy is going as.....
What makes this a great costume is that the second he puts it on, he's in character. And he's awesome. The Boy stood silently in The House Blond's bedroom, lights out, patiently waiting for her to open the door and step inside. Never said a word, he didn't have to. She about dropped to the floor in a dead feint.
As the Summer of Love faded into the warm clear days that mark Southern California in October, the stork assigned to the Fullerton run showed up at St Jude Hospital a little early. In his bundle of swaddled cotton were a couple of teeny preemie twin girls. Nobody had thought up ultrasound yet and consequently Mrs TWC wasn't expected and gave them all a bit of a startle.
She's my pride and joy.....
The plan was to get out of town yesterday evening. Enjoy a little soak in the hot tub, and then segue into a sumptious repast at Morgan's in the Desert, followed by a leisurely morning breakfast in the garden with Eggs Benedict at Twenty6.
In Hannibal fashion (Smith not Lector), everything was going according to plan until work reared its ugly head (hers not mine). Big sigh.
On the up side, I was a Boy Scout and I was an awesome patrol food guy. While the other kids were eating cold ceral with chunky milk, our patrol tortured them with the aroma of bacon frying in the morning. Other than that, though, I was the worst Boy Scout ever. I was in it for the camping trips, but somehow, the Be Prepared stuff stuck. Which is why I was compelled to pick me up a couple of lovely New York Strip Steaks to stash. Just in case. They'll do nicely with the bottle of 2004 Silverado Cabernet I just opened.
Can't recall the wine that came to our table that afternoon at Bourbon House, but it wasn't any of these three.
Some will snort and think: Tourist Trap. But they'd be wrong.The service was impeccable. The food was incredibly good. Memories are slippery, except that the awesome Navy Bean soup with spicy Andouille sausage sticks in my mind, something like the way it was meant to stick to the ribs. Just a late lunch with a few friends, spontaneous and serendipitous, something that just happens.
Don't exactly recall how fifteen years have slipped away since The House Blond slipped into this world. Long days. Short years. From Polly Pockets to a graphing calculator in.....I'm tempted to say......the blink of a young girl's eye.
She's a sophomore and manages an academic load that would put a lot of college kids in the dirt. She runs cross country and can scoot three miles in a bit less time than it takes her old man to walk one.
Tubac Arizona, Fourth of July 2012
Dusk at the Red Sand Beach, Hana Hawaii, July 2003
Sunset at Annapolis Harbor, Thanksgiving Day, 2011
Katie shares her birthday with Mexico, my cousin's wife, and B. B. King. And, as it turns out, September 16 is the most likely day of the year to join the parade.
This Yom Kippur also marks the 40th anniversary of the onset of the Yom Kippur war.
I rarely talk much about it because, frankly, it sounds ludicrous. Like a tall tale, a load of road apples, or BS from a congenital liar. Figured nobody would much believe it anyway, though it was real enough. Back in the days of my vagrant yoot, TWC signed on to go fight with the Israelis in the Yom Kippur war.
Guys in gray trench coats, black suits, and fedoras offered an only-in-your-wildest-dreams paycheck deposited into a Swiss bank, tax free. I was young and single. I'm good with Israel, so what's not to like? And to sweeten the deal? Early release from the custody of Uncle Sam's Misguided Children. A lot of guys weren't interested, but nobody had to ask me twice.
Destroyed Israeli Tank, 1973
But, it never happened. Here's why: Israel is definitely who you want at your back in a bar fight. Turned out they didn't need moi because the Israelis wrapped that war up in about three weeks. Not bad considering Israeli complacency about a possible attack that lasted until about six hours before the war kicked off.
So that's my Wharholian fifteen minutes that didn't happen. Yes, I was a bit disappointed.
After he returned from Germany, Ma's husband worked at the Pentagon for a number of years. Just a few months before his office was turned into a public crematorium, he opted for an early retirement package. We're all grateful that he did, but none more than my mother.
There are any number of fascinating back stories like Sonny's that are woven into the fabric of this tragedy. I prefer those tales of tragedy and heroism to the hype and hoopla going on at ground zero this morning.
I find it loathsome that the government decided to call this day Patriot's Day, you'll not find too many better examples of run-of-the-mill, Orwellian double-speak. We didn't call the attack on Pearl Harbor Patriot's Day, we called it what it was. A Day of Infamy.
We rightly honor those who lost their lives & we remember because of the sheer magnitude of the carnage. But the subsequent losses to our liberty over the last dozen years have been far greater.
Did you realize that since the National Archives building has been remodeled that ordinary citizens aren't permitted to photograph the Constitution? That's fitting because that quaint relic doesn't much apply to us anyway.