A little autobiography, perhaps?

May 31, 2016—Morningbrain, again.  I’ve been lying in bed (laying in bed?) (both?) for, I really don’t know, an hour or so, thinking, as I am wont to do from time to time, thinking about that little creation I’ve been working on called my “Autobiographical Trust.”  Finally I got up and made my way to the living room to engage my trusty companion from HP in the hope that I might remember enough of what I’ve just been thinking to come up with something interesting and useful.  First, though, some coffee?

Water’s heating up.  My thoughts are ranging from what to do next with the AT to how and where to include my “Last will and testament” in it.  Guess, in fairness to my wife and kids, the will should come first.  Then, maybe as a co-conspirator, the AT should be written along with copious notes to use in preparing the eventual autobiography that hopefully will follow.  Completion of the AT will enable its commercialization by providing a needed demonstration of the book’s usefulness to those who would consider buying it, as well as to those who I want to give it to, to allow them to get a start on their own works for their children (my grandchildren.)  I wish my dad and mom had written one of these (way too late for that, though.)  Guess I’d better get started before this old body goes the way of all bodies and makes my kids think the same thing about me.  Also guess I’d better clue Jennie in on what we need to be doing--ASAP, at that.

Water’s ready.  How anyone ever starts drinking coffee is a mystery.  Must be a lot of social pressure at work here.  Like the first person to try an oyster, that first coffee drinker must have been some determined SOB.  Still, after all these years, while recognizing the stuff really doesn’t taste all that good, it does smell and taste good. To me, anyway.  Ahhhh!

Now, where was I?  The AT.  I guess I need to do two things.  First, I need to write my AT (and, of course, that needed “Will.”)  Ah, here comes Tobi.  He just realized I’m not coming back to bed.  He’s now joining me in the living room, just not at the keyboard. 

The AT is the key, I suspect, to more than a few things.  First, it will give me something to sell that will be useful to John Q.  JQ is no different from me, even though he thinks he is.  JQ needs this, and writing mine will give him the demonstration he needs to know he needs an AT too.  Thoughts follow:

My AT will begin in Talladega, Alabama, on July 11, 1944.  Fitting, wouldn’t you say, for my “Book about Me?”  (Need to google that to find an author and pub date.)  Mom and Dad will be pretty big on that first page, since I have absolutely no memory of my own birth and first year or two.  Still, what the fledgling family was doing in the waning years of WWII in South Alabama is something that I must discuss.  The trick I will need to discover is what to put in my written comments and what to include as items on the adjoining page for eventual use in crafting the autobiography.  The written comments should be very readable, if obviously incomplete.  The reader will be able to see the adjoining items to know what will be addressed in the book proper, in any case, and the hand-written comments will give hem an idea of what he/she, her/him (the “hem”) will want to leave for hem’s progeny. 

After South Alabama, I need to go to Clarksville, Indiana.  Will need to check with Unkle Stu (since Marshall passed, just Unkle will do) to get some timing here.  Also need to see if he can remember where we went after Clarksville.  I’m thinking that was when we went to Richmond, VA, where I remember going behind the lunch counter in the Howard Johnston’s we were staying at and being shooed out by the friendly short-order cook.  Hmmm—it’s getting light outside, and the coffee cup’s empty.  Drinking too fast?  Writing too slow?  No nevermind—open blinds and refill cup.

Birds are getting their start on our feeders.  Guess the wild cats would appreciate a handful of dry food.  Need to fix and set the trap to start taking them to the SPCA for their neutering.  Can’t continue to raise this cat pack much longer.  Two “little greys” already out there.  Whole family is Grey, Mom (a mostly grey calico,) and three “little greys” from last season.  SPCA says they will neuter and return.  OK by me, but I have to do the catching. 

Somewhere about this time I ought to include a passage about “little Stevie” and his recital of “the Night Before Christmas.”   Also should talk about the stone blocks at Grandma Newbanks’ house.  Then on to Orangeburg—Lawrence, “fishing” for sticks, house beside the railroad tracks, Mary Sally, “eggs a la…,” Bro, broken leg, on to Ellis Ave Extension. 

So much for this “Morningbrain” write-up.  Time for AM news, eggs, and getting ready for the day.  Yikes!  What’s that?   Ahhhh…the morning wake-up from AT&T.  6:30 and time to call Jennie at Stash and Christy’s house to be sure her alarm went off too.  (It did.)  All is well in the world.  She’s taking care of the kids while S&C have a minivacation at Edisto (they’ll be back to get the kids on Wednesday, or so.)  Tamam.