I'll just entertain myself

I named it Taking Census and added it to my blog just now.

The heat is intense around here. The drought that has been creeping in just may rival the one of several years ago, when thousands of trees died. I normally don't water much in my yard because if it can't survive on its own I don't need it. But that sycamore tree will die for certain, so I have been watering it every few days. The bald cypress is showing stress and I watered it yesterday. And the water company just instituted a tough rate increase. I would welcome a tropical system through about now.

Between activities I've been trying to keep up with a bio flick of Little Richard. I've loved his music since '56, still play his records. I hope it gets run again when I am settled and can watch it better.

This is my father and oldest brother. Father died in 1948, age 33. Roger died in 1969 at age 29. Each murdered. This is such an extraordinary photo to me. It's like reading a complex novel or a volume of epic poetry. I got this photo not so many years ago from a relative I found on line but never have met.

That's a compelling picture.

I can't stop looking at it

"Like reading a complex novel" ....what a fabulous turn of phrase...

We were migrant workers. Well, not me. I was no more than three here. Shortly after this photo was made we left my father in Texas and moved with Mom's parents to San Diego. I have no memory of my father. Mom met a man who cooked for restaurants and remarried. I didn't know how to look for my father before I had my first computer.

Agree with JB and GB about the photo. How sad, too. Have you told their stories here? I do seem to recall you talking about your brother's death.

After we left Texas my father went to Oregon. I have a picture of him in a field with other migrants. Have one of his car. In '48 he went to California, where he was killed with a tire iron for his car. Then thrown into the river. He was buried in a pauper's grave. Some relatives were able to trace the story enough to know where he is buried, but not which specific grave it is.

Roger was relegated to breadwinner when Mom left her husband and returned to Texas.The man was an abusive drunk who developed a running feud with Roger. Roger talked back to him and lived as normal a life as he could. One day in 1956 the man came home with his prized butcher knives, laid them out and then sent all of the children to bed, except Roger. He let him know they were about to have a knife fight. Seven months pregnant Mom kept getting between them. I could not hear any of it. Soon enough the police came and took him away, but they couldn't charge him with a serious crime, since the knives were lying on the counter. He spent two weeks in jail, where he was popular as a cook.

He came back and told Mom, "These kids don't want me here and I will be GD if I stay." Then he spent months trying to persuade her to let him come home. We fled to Texas. Roger worked at carpentry. When he was 29, he began seeing a woman in a bar. We both had known her for 13 years. One day she was scared and Roger drove her away from the bar. Her ex chased them down and ran them down with a 3/4 pick up. The killer was banned from the county for a year and the matter closed.

The killer died of a heart attack when mowing his yard.

Here is Roger and me in San Diego.

Wow. Tragic stories. How did your mom end up? And your other siblings?

We were twelve children. She didn't want to have a baby every year and asked for the surgery, but those charity doctors always said no. Until after the third baby. She told them they were too late. The last baby died in her sleep, just when she was beginning to crawl. The remaining full brother was an artist. He died of cancer. My half siblings are all in some ways touched with the insanity of their father and his family. Some more than others. Half of them hate my guts. They are scattered from Oklahoma to Oregon. One of the younger ones died of cancer. I only hear from one sister anymore. She loves me and stays friendly. She lives in Oregon.

I forgot to include Mom. She grieved herself over Roger and had recurring bouts of pneumonia until the final bout killed her.

Until after the twelfth baby.

Mom at 15

later Mom

Record temps coming up. High as 105 Fahrenheit. We'll see if Governor Abbott's bandaid patch of the power grid holds.

Of course it will! Go buy that electric car you've always wanted.

If you want electric prices to mimic gas prices, everybody buy electric cars. Thousand dollar electric bills may be about right.

Daughter took us to a new restaurant yesterday for Father's Day. The portions were so generous I haven't recovered this morning. Two grilled pork chops, two eggs, hash browns, a stack of pancakes (they were stingy with the syrup). Didn't realize how much food until it was set before me. Had to leave about half of the potatoes. Just one pork chop would have sufficed. A few years back I would have polished it off without a thought. But the important thing is the time spent with my daughter. She has such a busy life it's rare to get her full attention.