Cat Stevens was one of just a few artists back in the day who helped me navigate while cruising roads and cruising feelings and thoughts as a 16-17-18 year old. Those rides in my car helped or confused me more about life and how I fit into it. As a son who harried his father and now a father harrying his son, this song has always resonated with me. With Father's Day on Sunday, call your Dad if you still have one. If you don't have one anymore think good thoughts. Age has given me the wisdom to know we were all simply trying to do the best we could. There is no manual for parenting.
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
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