This is a post as if you couldn’t tell.
Real answers to the Q&A posts from July 5th and 12th are on the Morning Thoughts page, however, I’ve moved the link to my home page. You’ll have to search for the access point.
I’m still having a fun with the experiment, so if you find the hidden link, tell me on my contact page.
Opening paragraphs from my started, but not published books:1 Having started these, and others, I hope to finish at least one of them.
Friday, March 13, 2020, Dusk
West Hazel Dell Neighborhood, Vancouver, WA, USA
Pap-pap! The instantaneous whiz sound stirred an instinct from my past. Pap-pap! I was in the ditch next to the road where I did my evening run/walk before the third shot. I don’t know why – I hadn’t had that reaction to shots since my last time in Vietnam 50 years before. In fact, I’d not heard shots without expectation since then.
Hart’s Ford is a Pacific Northwest town where high school football is as important as it’s alleged to be in Texas. However, there’s more than one game in the town where many participants don’t always play fair.
Saturday morning, the 20th anniversary of the Tet Offensive, forty-year-old US Army Vietnam veteran Carl ‘Rat’ Howard Moreau was met by a blast of wind driven snow as he left a Midwest federal prison gate. He considered his future to be as bad as the weather with just Salvation Army release-clothing, $100 in gate-money, and half of the $432 he earned at $0.20 an hour as a library aid. A uniformed guard stopped him as he started to board a free shuttle bus going to nearby Kansas City, saying, “Boss wants you to have this. Good luck out there Moreau. Just like Nam, try to put all of this behind you.”
A Story of Ross:2
I (Peter Ivanovich Karnov) am of age and in such circumstances that I believe I should start a record of my own life. My father kept a daily journal, except for the last month of his life, for as long as I can remember. He would write in it nearly every night before he slept. My mother told me that it was so his life could be remembered by his children and grandchildren and that I should start a journal of my own as soon as I could write. I did, after Mother taught me to write, but most of the times before this new start, I felt that I was still a child and had nothing of interest to share with the future. I am starting now (January 22, 1806) with seriousness in my heart, because before now I was but a boy and was only involved in child things and child thoughts. Mother also taught me about St. Paul.