In Remembrance
My wife's uncle, Edmund Dobson, was laid to rest today, December 30, 2004, at the age of 76 years old. He succumbed to cancer, a battle that has been ongoing for at least the past 28 years that I have known him, as I can remember him applying a prescription acid, which smarted quite a bit, to the skin melanoma that he had on his arms and hands.
He was a hard working individual, and quite a character, also anytime there was a death in the family, close or not, you could find his face in the crowd, dutifully paying his last respects.
Around 26 years ago, while there was a short lull in the wildcat drilling in the area, I worked for him on a roust-a-bout crew. The pay was not good, and the work was hard, and this was when he seemed to be at his finest. Often as we toiled alongside another crew, and they would be taking extended card playing lunch breaks, we would be painting walking beams, spraying diesel, and using sling blades to clean up around the tank batteries. He said, "We have to earn our paychecks".
Earn it we did, as we waded knee deep in oil slicked waters, covering the oil with bales of hay so that the wildlife management personnel would not see it as they flew over in airplanes and impose hefty fines. We made up pipe lines and tightened them as quickly as you could walk from one connection to the next, the sun taking it's toll as your vision clouded over with darkness, seeing nothing but floating white spots, which cleared as you walked to the next joint, only to repeat the process. We filled sand bags and wheellbarrowed them to the edge of a gully 50 yards away then threw them into a washout when the dump truck delivering the sand could have easily unloaded within 20 feet from the gorge. "We have to make a day of it", he says. When I reminded him of this on occasion throughout the years, he only smiled with pride. I also learned a new meaning for the term "pipe dope", and in no way was it entertaining.
There were times when job duties required driving from one location to another, and there was no use removing the work gloves as he sped down dusty dirt roads or bumpy mud trails. On the drive home, though, there was plenty of time as he never motored over 45 MPH at the end of the day. It was frustrating but we grew accustomed to it as there was nothing to be done to change his style.
I can assure you that I learned some valuable lessons from him about work ethics and dedication, which has followed me to this day. I say this as I pen this note while sitting comfortably at my office desk, which, by the way, I earned.
So as the family is filled with sadness, and wife Maria, my father-in law's sister, is in poor health herself, I think back and I am grateful to have known this man, he has not left this world untouched, and I in turn touch others because of him. Some may come away with bitterness, others with important values and I am thankful that it is appointed unto man only once to die, which insinuates that we live forever, and dying is just a process somewhere in the middle, and that all the lives you touch here remember you, and will become a testament of your life and how you lived it, for better or for worse.
Thanks Uncle Ed, from an old hand, fare-the-well.
June 19, 1928 - December 28, 2004
Thursday, December 30, 2004
In Rememberance
In Remembrance
My wife's uncle, Edmund Dobson, was laid to rest today, December 30, 2004, at the age of 76 years old. He succumbed to cancer, a battle that has been ongoing for at least the past 28 years that I have known him, as I can remember him applying a prescription acid, which smarted quite a bit, to the skin melanoma that he had on his arms and hands.
He was a hard working individual, and quite a character, also anytime there was a death in the family, close or not, you could find his face in the crowd, dutifully paying his last respects.
Around 26 years ago, while there was a short lull in the wildcat drilling in the area, I worked for him on a roust-a-bout crew. The pay was not good, and the work was hard, and this was when he seemed to be at his finest. Often as we toiled alongside another crew, and they would be taking extended card playing lunch breaks, we would be painting walking beams, spraying diesel, and using sling blades to clean up around the tank batteries. He said, "We have to earn our paychecks".
Earn it we did, as we waded knee deep in oil slicked waters, covering the oil with bales of hay so that the wildlife management personnel would not see it as they flew over in airplanes and impose hefty fines. We made up pipe lines and tightened them as quickly as you could walk from one connection to the next, the sun taking it's toll as your vision clouded over with darkness, seeing nothing but floating white spots, which cleared as you walked to the next joint, only to repeat the process. We filled sand bags and wheellbarrowed them to the edge of a gully 50 yards away then threw them into a washout when the dump truck delivering the sand could have easily unloaded within 20 feet from the gorge. "We have to make a day of it", he says. When I reminded him of this on occasion throughout the years, he only smiled with pride. I also learned a new meaning for the term "pipe dope", and in no way was it entertaining.
There were times when job duties required driving from one location to another, and there was no use removing the work gloves as he sped down dusty dirt roads or bumpy mud trails. On the drive home, though, there was plenty of time as he never motored over 45 MPH at the end of the day. It was frustrating but we grew accustomed to it as there was nothing to be done to change his style.
I can assure you that I learned some valuable lessons from him about work ethics and dedication, which has followed me to this day. I say this as I pen this note while sitting comfortably at my office desk, which, by the way, I earned.
So as the family is filled with sadness, and wife Maria, my father-in law's sister, is in poor health herself, I think back and I am grateful to have known this man, he has not left this world untouched, and I in turn touch others because of him. Some may come away with bitterness, others with important values and I am thankful that it is appointed unto man only once to die, which insinuates that we live forever, and dying is just a process somewhere in the middle, and that all the lives you touch here remember you, and will become a testament of your life and how you lived it, for better or for worse.
Thanks Uncle Ed, from an old hand, fare-the-well.
June 19, 1928 - December 28, 2004
My wife's uncle, Edmund Dobson, was laid to rest today, December 30, 2004, at the age of 76 years old. He succumbed to cancer, a battle that has been ongoing for at least the past 28 years that I have known him, as I can remember him applying a prescription acid, which smarted quite a bit, to the skin melanoma that he had on his arms and hands.
He was a hard working individual, and quite a character, also anytime there was a death in the family, close or not, you could find his face in the crowd, dutifully paying his last respects.
Around 26 years ago, while there was a short lull in the wildcat drilling in the area, I worked for him on a roust-a-bout crew. The pay was not good, and the work was hard, and this was when he seemed to be at his finest. Often as we toiled alongside another crew, and they would be taking extended card playing lunch breaks, we would be painting walking beams, spraying diesel, and using sling blades to clean up around the tank batteries. He said, "We have to earn our paychecks".
Earn it we did, as we waded knee deep in oil slicked waters, covering the oil with bales of hay so that the wildlife management personnel would not see it as they flew over in airplanes and impose hefty fines. We made up pipe lines and tightened them as quickly as you could walk from one connection to the next, the sun taking it's toll as your vision clouded over with darkness, seeing nothing but floating white spots, which cleared as you walked to the next joint, only to repeat the process. We filled sand bags and wheellbarrowed them to the edge of a gully 50 yards away then threw them into a washout when the dump truck delivering the sand could have easily unloaded within 20 feet from the gorge. "We have to make a day of it", he says. When I reminded him of this on occasion throughout the years, he only smiled with pride. I also learned a new meaning for the term "pipe dope", and in no way was it entertaining.
There were times when job duties required driving from one location to another, and there was no use removing the work gloves as he sped down dusty dirt roads or bumpy mud trails. On the drive home, though, there was plenty of time as he never motored over 45 MPH at the end of the day. It was frustrating but we grew accustomed to it as there was nothing to be done to change his style.
I can assure you that I learned some valuable lessons from him about work ethics and dedication, which has followed me to this day. I say this as I pen this note while sitting comfortably at my office desk, which, by the way, I earned.
So as the family is filled with sadness, and wife Maria, my father-in law's sister, is in poor health herself, I think back and I am grateful to have known this man, he has not left this world untouched, and I in turn touch others because of him. Some may come away with bitterness, others with important values and I am thankful that it is appointed unto man only once to die, which insinuates that we live forever, and dying is just a process somewhere in the middle, and that all the lives you touch here remember you, and will become a testament of your life and how you lived it, for better or for worse.
Thanks Uncle Ed, from an old hand, fare-the-well.
June 19, 1928 - December 28, 2004
In Remembrance of
In Remembrance
My wife's uncle, Edmund Dobson, was laid to rest
today, December 30, 2004, at the age of 76 years old. He succumbed to
cancer, a battle that has been ongoing for at least the past 28 years
that I have known him, as I can remember him applying a prescription
acid, which smarted quite a bit, to the skin melanoma that he had on
his arms and hands.
He was a hard working individual, and quite a
character, also anytime there was a death in the family, close or not,
you could find his face in the crowd, dutifully paying his last respects.
Around 26 years ago, while there was a short lull in the
wildcat drilling in the area, I worked for him on a roust-a-bout crew.
The pay was not good, and the work was hard, and this was when he
seemed to be at his finest. Often as we toiled alongside another crew,
and they would be taking extended card playing lunch breaks, we would
be painting walking beams, spraying diesel, and using sling blades to
clean up around the tank batteries. He said, "We have to earn our paychecks".
Earn it we did, as we waded knee deep in oil slicked
waters, covering the oil with bales of hay so that the wildlife
management personnel would not see it as they flew over in airplanes
and impose hefty fines. We made up pipe lines and tightened them as
quickly as you could walk from one connection to the next, the sun
taking it's toll as your vision clouded over with darkness, seeing
nothing but floating white spots, which cleared as you walked to the
next joint, only to repeat the process. We filled sand bags and
wheellbarrowed them to the edge of a gully 50 yards away then threw
them into a washout when the dump truck delivering the sand could have
easily unloaded within 20 feet from the gorge. "We have to make a day
of it", he says. When I reminded him of this on occasion throughout the
years, he only smiled with pride. I also learned a new meaning for the
term "pipe dope", and in no way was it entertaining.
There were times when job duties required driving from one location to another,
and there was no use removing the work gloves as he sped down dusty
dirt roads or bumpy mud trails. On the drive home, though, there was
plenty of time as he never motored over 45 MPH at the end of the day.
It was frustrating but we grew accustomed to it as there was nothing to
be done to change his style.
I can assure you that I learned some valuable lessons from him
about work ethics and dedication, which has followed me to this day.
I say this as I pen this note while sitting comfortably at my office desk,
which, by the way, I earned.
So as the family is filled with sadness, and wife Maria, my father-in law's
sister, is in poor health herself, I think back and I am grateful to
have known this man, he has not left this world untouched, and I in
turn touch others because of him. Some may come away with bitterness,
others with important values and I am thankful that it is appointed
unto man only once to die, which insinuates that we live forever, and
dying is just a process somewhere in the middle, and that all the lives
you touch here remember you, and become a testament of your life and
how you lived it, for better or for worse.
Thanks Uncle Ed, from an old hand, fare-thee-well.
June 19, 1928 - December 28, 2004
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
The Miracle Nickel
The Miracle Nickel
I got back a nickel today, along with some other change, forty-eight cents to be exact. This is no ordinary nickel though, it's a well-seasoned nickel from 1952. Aside from the obvious wear from many years of use, what sets this nickel apart from the other change that I received, including another nickel, is how it immediately caught my eye, even as it passed from the cashiers hand to mine. Keep in mind that I rarely venture out from my job during the off season for supplies due to a drop in revenue, that I waited two days for the boss to briefly show up to ask for the unexpected expense to rent a jagger pump to pump out the cellar of the hotel owners home because of a burst water pipe, that this hasn't occurred in any winter conditions we've had previously, and I just happened to stop at this convenience store for the gas for the pump, and well, you have quite an unusual set of coincidences. Not convinced?
It has been one week since my oldest brother's birthday, and just two days since I posted a belated birthday wish in his memory Adrian.
I have contemplated much lately on how blessed I am and how I attribute that to God, who happens to be the same for all of us, as there can only be one, if not, we must change our definition and meaning of the word God (almighty being) and when you change the meaning of the word, the word God ceases to exist as it becomes an antithesis, and therefore there is no God, and I refuse to entertain that folly.
There are many misfortunes that befall us, there are tragedies and sorrow, there is also joy, and peace. I remember one of my Dad's many favorite songs, taken from the book of Job. Thou God slay me yet I trust him. He had a beautiful singing voice and you couldn't help but notice when he sang. There was also no way of ignoring when he prayed. When you speak of faith, it is actually a very easy gift to have when you realize that faith is synonymous with trust, and I can trust God completely, as he will not lie.
I passed by a man on the sidewalk yesterday, I noticed him as he rounded the corner, and as our eyes met, his limp became noticeably worse. With my window down he had the opportunity to ask for fifty cents, on my reluctance, it became one dollar, one dollar fifty cents, to catch the trolley, Sir. Boy, is he good, I thought as I observed his attire. He was wearing a fashionable full-length coat and a clean wool scarf around his neck. He was wearing what appeared to be some well fitting alligator ankle boots, pointed and heeled that I wouldn't mind having myself if I weren't so modest. Still, I declined, and as he moved away he said a God bless you, so I received a blessing anyway, in spite of my stinginess.
Then, leaving from work, on the bridge in front of me was a car that looked like it was slowing down, or maybe backing up because one of the lights on the driver's side was white, like a backup light. I slowed and changed lanes to avoid being run over by the cars behind me, which were in a mad rush at 5 o'clock in the evening. As I passed by on the left I could plainly see that it was a lady in a disabled vehicle with her emergency flashers on, and she clearly looked distressed. In my rear view mirror I saw the oncoming traffic having a terrible time of it trying to avoid her vehicle and each other and I thought for a moment about going back around and at least trying to slow traffic with my liability insured only truck, then I thought better of it.
This morning, on my way back to work, there is a hitchhiker (sigh). He was walking hurriedly with his back facing the traffic, thumb out, and maybe late for work somewhere. I didn't pick him up.
There are many opportunities to do good that elude us, but it must be tempered with good judgment. There are too many needs.
One can only hope that when we are weighed in the balance, there are enough times we said yes to outweigh all the nos, and we don't come up wanting.
Therefore, I give you my miracle nickel. God still smiles at me, and Adrian; God rest your soul.
byron 12-29-04
nickel
I got back a nickel today, along with some other change, forty-eight cents to be exact. This is no ordinary nickel though, it's a well-seasoned nickel from 1952. Aside from the obvious wear from many years of use, what sets this nickel apart from the other change that I received, including another nickel, is how it immediately caught my eye, even as it passed from the cashiers hand to mine. Keep in mind that I rarely venture out from my job during the off season for supplies due to a drop in revenue, that I waited two days for the boss to briefly show up to ask for the unexpected expense to rent a jagger pump to pump out the cellar of the hotel owners home because of a burst water pipe, that this hasn't occurred in any winter conditions we've had previously, and I just happened to stop at this convenience store for the gas for the pump, and well, you have quite an unusual set of coincidences. Not convinced?
It has been one week since my oldest brother's birthday, and just two days since I posted a belated birthday wish in his memory Adrian.
I have contemplated much lately on how blessed I am and how I attribute that to God, who happens to be the same for all of us, as there can only be one, if not, we must change our definition and meaning of the word God (almighty being) and when you change the meaning of the word, the word God ceases to exist as it becomes an antithesis, and therefore there is no God, and I refuse to entertain that folly.
There are many misfortunes that befall us, there are tragedies and sorrow, there is also joy, and peace. I remember one of my Dad's many favorite songs, taken from the book of Job. Thou God slay me yet I trust him. He had a beautiful singing voice and you couldn't help but notice when he sang. There was also no way of ignoring when he prayed. When you speak of faith, it is actually a very easy gift to have when you realize that faith is synonymous with trust, and I can trust God completely, as he will not lie.
I passed by a man on the sidewalk yesterday, I noticed him as he rounded the corner, and as our eyes met, his limp became noticeably worse. With my window down he had the opportunity to ask for fifty cents, on my reluctance, it became one dollar, one dollar fifty cents, to catch the trolley, Sir. Boy, is he good, I thought as I observed his attire. He was wearing a fashionable full-length coat and a clean wool scarf around his neck. He was wearing what appeared to be some well fitting alligator ankle boots, pointed and heeled that I wouldn't mind having myself if I weren't so modest. Still, I declined, and as he moved away he said a God bless you, so I received a blessing anyway, in spite of my stinginess.
Then, leaving from work, on the bridge in front of me was a car that looked like it was slowing down, or maybe backing up because one of the lights on the driver's side was white, like a backup light. I slowed and changed lanes to avoid being run over by the cars behind me, which were in a mad rush at 5 o'clock in the evening. As I passed by on the left I could plainly see that it was a lady in a disabled vehicle with her emergency flashers on, and she clearly looked distressed. In my rear view mirror I saw the oncoming traffic having a terrible time of it trying to avoid her vehicle and each other and I thought for a moment about going back around and at least trying to slow traffic with my liability insured only truck, then I thought better of it.
This morning, on my way back to work, there is a hitchhiker (sigh). He was walking hurriedly with his back facing the traffic, thumb out, and maybe late for work somewhere. I didn't pick him up.
There are many opportunities to do good that elude us, but it must be tempered with good judgment. There are too many needs.
One can only hope that when we are weighed in the balance, there are enough times we said yes to outweigh all the nos, and we don't come up wanting.
Therefore, I give you my miracle nickel. God still smiles at me, and Adrian; God rest your soul.
byron 12-29-04
nickel
The Miracle Nickel
The Miracle Nickel
I got back a nickel today, along with
some other change, forty-eight cents to be exact. This is no ordinary
nickel though, it's a well-seasoned nickel from 1952. Aside from the
obvious wear from many years of use, what sets this nickel apart from
the other change that I received, including another nickel, is
how it immediately caught my eye, even as it passed from the cashiers
hand to mine. Keep in mind that I rarely venture out from my job during
the off season for supplies due to a drop in revenue, that I waited two
days for the boss to briefly show up to ask for the unexpected expense
to rent a jagger pump to pump out the cellar of the hotel owners home
because of a burst water pipe, that this hasn't occurred in any winter
conditions we've had previously, and I just happened to stop at this convenience store for the gas for the pump, and well, you have quite an unusual set of coincidences. Not convinced?
It
has been one week since my oldest brother's birthday, and just two days
since I posted a belated birthday wish in his memory Adrian.
I
have contemplated much lately on how blessed I am and how I attribute
that to God, who happens to be the same for all of us, as there can
only be one, if not, we must change our definition and meaning of the
word God (almighty being) and when you change the meaning of the word,
the word God ceases to exist as it becomes an antithesis, and therefore
there is no God, and I refuse to entertain that folly.
There are
many misfortunes that befall us, there are tragedies and sorrow, there
is also joy, and peace. I remember one of my Dad's many favorite songs,
taken from the book of Job. Thou God slay me yet I trust him.
He had a beautiful singing voice and you couldn't help but notice when
he sang. There was also no way of ignoring when he prayed. When you
speak of faith, it is actually a very easy gift to have when you
realize that faith is synonymous with trust, and I can trust God
completely.
I passed by a man on the sidewalk yesterday, I noticed
him as he rounded the corner, and as our eyes met, his limp became
perceptibly worse. With my window down he had the opportunity to ask
for fifty cents, on my reluctance, it became one dollar, one dollar
fifty cents, "to catch the trolley, Sir". Boy, is he good, I
thought as I observed his attire. He was wearing a fashionable
full-length coat and a clean wool scarf around his neck. He was wearing
what appeared to be some well fitting alligator ankle boots, pointed
and heeled that I wouldn't mind having myself if I weren't so modest.
Still, I declined, and as he moved away he said a God bless you, so I
received a blessing anyway, in spite of my stinginess.
Then, leaving
from work, on the bridge in front of me was a car that looked like it
was slowing down, or maybe backing up because one of the lights on the
driver's side was white, like a backup light. I slowed and changed
lanes to avoid being run over by the cars behind me, which were in a
mad rush at 5 o'clock in the evening. As I passed by on the left I
could plainly see that it was a lady in a disabled vehicle with her
emergency flashers on, and she clearly looked distressed. In my rear
view mirror I saw the oncoming traffic having a terrible time of it
trying to avoid her vehicle and each other and I thought for a moment
about going back around and at least trying to slow traffic with my
liability insured only truck, then I thought better of it.
This morning, on my way back to work, there was a hitchhiker (sigh). He was walking hurriedly with his back facing the traffic, thumb out, and maybe late for work somewhere. I didn't pick him up.
There are many opportunities to do good that elude us, but it must be tempered with good judgment. There are too many needs.
One
can only hope that when we are weighed in the balance, there are enough
times we said yes to outweigh all the nos, and we don't come up
wanting.
Therefore, I give you my miracle nickel. God still smiles at me, and Adrian; God rest your soul.
byron 12-29-04
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Saturday, December 18, 2004
fountain III
15 minutes. curtis says it has mice, but it got me the job when i included this on my proposal
my newest commision;
residential fountain
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
thoughts for you
"Go placidly amid the noise & haste & remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly & clearly; and listen to others, even the dull & ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud & aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain & bitter; for always there will be greater & lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not fein affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity & disenchantment it is perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue & loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a Child of the Universe, no less than the trees & the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the Universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors & aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery & broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy."
-Max Ehrmann ["Desiderata"]
thoughts for you
"Go placidly amid the noise & haste & remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly & clearly; and listen to others, even the dull & ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud & aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain & bitter; for always there will be greater & lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not fein affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity & disenchantment it is perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue & loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a Child of the Universe, no less than the trees & the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the Universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors & aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery & broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy."
-Max Ehrmann ["Desiderata"]
Monday, December 06, 2004
my mechanic in training
kailani learns the basics assisting with putting brothers 4wheeler together for christmas
Sunday, December 05, 2004
for dolly
Spent this weekend pulling & re installing the transmission in my
boys truck. Seems there was an overlooked problem with the replacement
motor as we left an alignment bearing in the end of the crankshaft
intended for a manual transmission and not an automatic. It had to come
out for the torque converter to slide into the end of the crankshaft.
If we did this for a living, we would have known it couldn't stay. I
saw it before installing the motor and wrongly deduced it could stay.
Big mistake as it made for plenty of work once the motor was in the
truck. Had to pull the transmission and chisel the bearing out while
laying on the ground all the while transmission fluid and rain running
everywhere. We are not done hooking everything back up as it gets dark
earlier now, at 5PM instead of the 8PM we can usually depend on in the
summer months, but we are way ahead of where we were.
It is difficult and frustrating to work in these conditions but as usual,
I managed to inject a little humor to let these young men (Curtis and
Darrell) know that we can do this in spite of these circumstances. I
tell them that I once had to do almost the same thing many years ago,
that is, pull a transmission, change a cracked flywheel, and put it
back, only that time all I had for a side kick was my sister Dolly, and
she managed quite well. She was instrumental in replacing the heavy
Plymouth transmission and bolting it up to the 383 cid engine that was
in Mamma's 1969 Plymouth Fury III that we boys treated like a race
car**. Of course, transmissions seem to gain weight over the span of 29
years and there is a difference between the nimble strength of 19 and
the determined brute force of 47. Of course, I only think we get better
at not banging our knuckles, and difficulty is no longer any excuse
anymore. Some people may call it hard headed, but I call it valor.
**In 1969, Plymouth claimed to have a "completely new Fury." The four door
sedans wheelbase was 120 inches, 1.5 inches longer than in 1968, and
there was more shoulder room in both front and rear. The 383 Commando 2
barrel, or the 383 Super Commando 4 barrel (i don't remember which) and
"special cam", the transmission was a heavy 3 speed A-727 Torqueflite
automatic.
A belated thanks Dolly for your help, you should do
well dealing with your present situations, you've always been a very
present strength in time of trouble.
The one resolution,
which was in my mind long before it took the form of a resolution, is
the key-note of my life. It is this, always to regard as mere
impertinences of fate the handicaps which were placed upon my life
almost at the beginning. I resolved that they should not crush or dwarf
my soul, but rather be made to blossom, like Aaron's rod, with flowers.
- Helen Keller
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
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