July 18, 1965 - Feb. 12, 1973

Watergate Lane

Always, always, I scan my mental, emotional horizon for clues to what it all means.  What it means now and what it meant then and how then affects now.  The texture of life is endlessly fascinating.  Strands that make up my life are continuously separated, examined, analyzed, in hopes that eventually, my questions, indistinct and undefined as they are, may some day be answered.

Lives are fascinating.  Everyone's lives.  I want to stop strangers on the street and ask about their deepest feelings and what they feel defines them.  I'm terrible at chit chat.  Conversations without depth make me nervous.  "Real conversations" (to borrow a phrase a friend used today, in somewhat the same vein) exhilarate me, make me feel connected.

My father's POW experience - the fact that it happened, what he had to endure, what he missed, how it affected the rest of the family, the fallout - qualifies as the dominant influence on who I've become, but there are others: being a part of a large family, sometimes a family under duress, the fact that Jerry went to Vietnam;  Billy's illness;  having four older brothers; being a part of the M Society; the Sixties;  my friends;  my family's friends... for starters.

Actually who I've become was probably determined before I was born, imbedded in my DNA.  My personality type.  But, if that's the case, I have nothing to blog about today, so let's just push that aside.  Or, better yet, add it to the list of intriguing aspects.  How does the prism of a personality type disperse the rays of life's experiences and produce different outlooks and effects?  You may say, WTF is she talking about?  Believe me, I'm wondering the same thing.

I want my children, my nieces and nephews, beloved all, to know from where they come.  As if the self-absorbed, obsessive talk at every family event doesn't make it clear.  So, Jake, Jessica, Edward, Katie, Caroline, David, Fontaine, Maury, Allison, Micah, Ben, Nick, Bartlett, Denton… this is my version of Watergate Lane.  I wish you'd been there.  As Dad says, and Jim repeats, your generation is a great improvement on ours!

And, Eliza Jane, I wrote this with you in mind.  I'm glad you're interested, sweet girl.

These posts are a work in progress to be supplemented and edited indefinitely. The topic continues onto another blog page.  Click on "Older Posts" at the bottom for more - the pictures of Dad's return to ur home in King's Grant. The topic is too wide in scope for me to do it justice, but it's a start.  A meagre one.