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Flashback Friday



Well look what we have here.  Prom time at the Blythe residence.  Our fireplace was a nice place for casual to semi formal photos.  Pictured here, of course is a somewhat shy writer of your blog and his effervescent daughter.  Proms have always been a bit of a gateway to adulthood.  As for me, I have designated my time on this planet B.K. (Before Kenzie) and A.K.  She may have been her Mother's daughter but there was always enough sunshine from that personality to keep me pretty warm as well.

On the wall in the upper right is a photo I took of Kenzie in Uncle Ed's lap back across the street on Grove.  Ed was the M & M man to our kids.  he seemed to always have a bag when he stopped over.  Just over my shoulder is a picture of Marj and Herb at their wedding.  And over the mantle is the painting of our house.  

I didn't realize then as I was standing dutifully, and proudly, as some strange teenage boy whisked my daughter off out into the night, but this was the first scenario into "letting go".  Her smile has with it all the excitement and yearning of youth on the precipice of adulthood.  My constrained look has within it all the fear for her and maybe the knowledge that I was on somewhat of a precipice myself. 

Nope, didn't see it then.  But from my perch today I see all the cycles.  Perhaps if we did see back then we'd take a stand and put a stop to life itself in some frantic, manic attempt to preserve the moment and end the cyclical nature of things.  But instead, we do the next best thing - we take pictures.  Small seconds in time that are preserved.  Life continues, but in each snapshot it stays frozen.   

Little by little life exerts itself into our daily routines, and then, before you know it, the orderly world that we have constructed changes for good, and we begin the process again.  Always readjusting to a new reality.  Like a house of cards that keeps falling down from a light window breeze, not hard enough to cause anguish but strong enough to create change.  Life seems to be a continuous adjustment that we have to become familiar, and maybe, friends with.  I was really friends with the time that was when this picture was taken.    

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Flashback Friday

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