We left the veteran's home and called Joe to make sure he was home. It took over an hour in the dark and fog to get there. My cousin Yvonne was in St. Louis at a concert and would not be back until tomorrow so he was bach'n it. We breached his fortress of solitude and made ourselves at home. That's the way it should be in all families and so seldom is. The three of us drank martini's and talked non-stop while Joe threw together supper.

We inhaled the food like we hadn't eaten in a week and barely slowed our conversation.

I realized that, as I was speaking these alcohol imbibed "great truths", my mind was using that same time to examine my own beliefs. Not that I know anything from this examination...that will surely be revealed to me at some future date. But it is a relief to know that somewhere, somehow I am still trying to discover who I am.

I went to bed thinking Popeye's "I yam what I yam" is no longer enough.

Ciao,
Papa