Dear Dear Diary
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
 
OT

Things I never knew about my grandparents still fascinate me.

Grandpa Burt, who I thought was one of the scariest men alive when I knew him, had to cultivate that. He was a principal of an elementary school, so I can see why it may be necessary. But he did love children and had a lot of patience with us. He liked to stick his dentures out at me. He also walked with a cane and I worried about the weapon, since he would threaten us with it.

He was a trash picker of extraordinary proportions. He could not pass a pile by the side of the road without thinking about how whatever it was he spotted could go wherever. I have my packrat urges from him. But I think anyone who went through the Depression has these urges. My other grandparents also belived in free-cycling, and but they preferred the carrion calling of estate sales and garage sales to outright curb trash.

But the side of him I really wish I knew was the young man with a motorcycle (one of the first Harley Davidsons!) and a fiddle who would travel the bars of the Adirondack Mountains, fiddling for his drinks, sharing songs and swapping stories. This is how he spent his summers while a student at Hamilton College, which he could afford to attend thanks to the GI bill. You see, he was a soldier of the Great War, that War to End All Wars, and they believed it would never happen again. He signed up as 101-day doughboy, off to a ship to take him to fight the Krauts, met by a ship from Spain that carried the influenza. He never made it to Europe as a young man, because he came down with the flu. He was sent off to a sanitorium in the Adirondacks to recover, where they sent tuberculosis patients. So naturally he next caught tuberculosis, and it's a wonder he could breathe. He ended up asthmatic but very full of fun.

I don't remember him as tall, but he was imposing. He met Meme while she was a teacher in a nearby school. They would go out drinking when drinking was illegal. And he was known for his impatience. Once, she was coat shopping. She waffled between two coats- the one she wanted and the one she could afford. He grumbled, "if you want that coat so much, I'll buy it for you." She demurred. Such an expensive gift would only be proper if they were engaged. "Fine then," he grumbled. "We're engaged. Let me buy the damn coat."
 
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This rather schizophrenic blog was started as a fictional blog, written by a character of a story. I've since taken it over for writing personal stuff I don't mind sharing with anyone who cares. I am also writing thoughts about writing and stories that move me.


Other places I go:
Georg's Research
Help local kitties
I have relatives. Be afraid
Blessed is the One True Tami
Tata the Bodacious
Obligatory Yarn Harlot
It is impossible not to love Sandi Wiseheart once you've met her
The Tsarina
Holiday Yarns
Habetrot
I like the name Twiggi
Who to blame for my sock addiction
Maybe the cleverest blog title
Romancing the Yarn
Why I read Romancing the Yarn
Get an ab work out with laughter
My Kitty Obsession
Kittehs
You meet the nicest people playing video games
I'm such a fanboi
Rabbitch
One of my stalker targets
The other stalkee
I just love Josh (the cat)
Josh the Cat and friends
Pet politics
Pet Care
If I were a sheep, I'd be Delores
I live here now
Not Your Mama's Crafters
Make a Lily Pad


Anything not marked might be just me, Georg, posting as myself.

It's just this blog, okay? Some of it is story. Some of it is animals. Some of it is knitting. It's a blog.

For story #1, I do recommend starting from the beginning of this blog if you haven't read this before. Please start at the beginning.

I did mean it to be for http://www.nanowrimo.org - but I never got quite got it done under the wire.

CAST:
Jeannie is the author/main character.
Frank is her husband. Poor man.
Tony is musician/singer.
Angie is a teenager, who was Jeannie's best friend. Now currently dead.
Honestly, there is no connection between Jeannie and me and Frank and my husband.

Story #2
Frank and Ether. This will be much weirder than Frank and Jeannie. I like the name Frank. No one expects a Frank to lie.

Story #3
A desert story. Anna is the main character. Currently there is only her little brother and an old servant, and a mysterious redhead.

Story #4
The necro story. A young necromancer heads off to the Hated Ones to find her trousseau.

Story X
Reserving this for one-offs, poems, etc.


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Marriage is love.

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