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Sunday, Jul. 30, 2006
I must offer a public apology to one of the greats, cause I spleened him and it turns out I might . . . have been wrong.

Not about spleenin’ him. Lord knows . . .

But I thinks that I might have been too hasty in thinking that Dangerspouse complaining about not being able to add a comment in the Guestbook was just a crock of hooey. That he was deficient in some way.

Turns out that some others have tabled the same complaint. And they’re adults, too.

Danged if I can figure it out. The sonofagun works for me, by god. And for a goodly amount of others, it would seem.

‘Course, I ain’t in Jersey. And just by coincidence, the folks voicing their concerns are all from Jersey. Or somewhere up Nawth. Oh I’m sure it’s coincidence.

Yep. Gotta be.

The rest of y‘all are just blessed.

But I do thank you, sincerely, for all the nice notes and comments on the grandbaby. I don‘t reach a large audience here, and don‘t much care to, but there are some seriously wonderful people who stop by on a regular basis.


Somewhere around the time that he was my age getting on in years, Dad happened to acquire a camera for Christmas, a very nice Minolta with many
fine features. Shortly thereafter he discovered the slide projector and the delights of a dim living room with a captive audience of two, his wife and myself. My siblings having gallivanted off to college, or parsonages in New England or other desperate frontiers, leaving me alone to man the fort, and suffer the slides and arrows.

I have shivering recollections of those days, and viewing 872 consecutive pictures of leaves turning color in the Lower Mohawk Valley, November 1970, Reel 4. I swore never to become that way, and inherit the gleam in the eye that would catapult Dad out of his chair with a shouting “Just look! The way the light frames that tree, oh but wait there’s more!” And indeed there always were.

That said . . .

I think that cradling a baby in your arms and being able to will it to sleep (not difficult, at not a week old of course) with a deep rumbling bass song and a mind free of any trouble is a necessary skill. It’s interesting because I learned it the hard way, having several small children around and needing an hour of peace on any given evening, you learn how or you get no sleep yourself.

But I thought it was cute the way my wife, upon seeing a baby prime for sleepy time earlier today, automatically brought the bundle to my lap and thrust it home. “Here, you know what to do.”

I do.

My Guestbook operation sucks, but by gaw I can hypnotize an infant in nothing flat.

It cannot be said that I’m entirely worthless.

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