Class, Or Lack Thereof The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois. I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless. Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001. It was one of those things that can generate crime: two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job. Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things. Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold. But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find. His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead. He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds. He will be paralyzed for life. None of this is pleasant. Reading the facts of the murder and attempted murder are most unpleasant
I found this nice small park area last time I went out on the bike path to the north. I try to go farther each time. This is a neighborhood park and really nice, clean and a bit of an oasis in the city.
Nice shady lane cuts the sun's heat.
Birds really seem to groove on the pylons in the bay. There is one on every pylon it seems. 
Funny how the will to live keeps these shrubs clinging on even in the water. It is not very deep here but it seem incredible that these guys survive.
This is my boat. As you can see the previous owner has hoisted the white flag in surrender. Now if I can figure out how to get over there it's mine. Cap'n Mike Sparrow.
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