Christmases Remembered

What is your favorite memory of Christmas?

Four particular Christmases stand out in the myriad of holidays I’ve been privileged to enjoy over the years. Many, many years!

The first one is right after World War II when money was tight and Mom and Dad only had ten dollars to spend on my sister Donna and me. I came home from school and found Mom crying because they couldn’t do much for us. I didn’t know what to expect Christmas morning, but lo and behold, I was ecstatic. I got a $5 Mickey Mouse watch and Donna got a $5 birthstone ring. To us kids, we’d been given the greatest gifts in the world. Other years, my mom would buy us each a doll and then make a wardrobe of clothes for them while my dad worked in the basement making highchairs to put the dolls in.

Another memory is that every Christmas Eve Dad would pile Donna and me in his truck to go for a ride so we could check out the Christmas decorations around town. Mom never went with us because for some reason she had to stay home and wash her hair. Arriving back at the house, we noticed what appeared to be tracks in the snow on the roof, proof that Santa had been there while we were gone. Entering the house, we saw all our gifts under the tree at the same time Mom came out with a towel around her wet hair. She was just as shocked as we were that Santa had been there and she never heard him. Kids are so gullible and that’s part of the magic of Christmas.

Years passed and I got married and had two girls, Tammy and Cyndi. One year my dad got tired of Christmas being so commercial and suggested that the next Christmas we all make our gifts for each other instead of buying them at the store. He reasoned that if we made a gift or two a month, we’d be done by Christmas. We all agreed, then come April I thought, “Oh no, it’s April and I haven’t made a Christmas gift yet!” I got busy, as did everyone else, and by Christmas, we had a marvelous array of homemade gifts under the tree. There were gifts made of wood, liquid embroidery, sewn gifts, knitted gifts, painted pictures, apple head dolls, Popsicle stick gifts, any craft item you can imagine, we family members, young and old, made for each other. That Christmas turned out to be the most heartfelt Christmas ever.

Two years later, Tammy and Cyndi were joined by a son Michael born on December 19^th. Tammy became my Mary, dressed in a blue shawl and kneeling over baby Michael wrapped in a blanket while angel Cyndi, dressed in white, completed the nativity picture. A very special memory.

So please tell me, what special Christmas or Hanukah makes you smile with sweet memories?

Quote of the day: Christmas isn't a season. It's a feeling. Edna Ferber

It's NEVER too late!

We’ve all heard that death and taxes wait for no man. I don’t know about taxes, but I do know that when you’re dead, you’re dead and there’s no time left to finish anything on your to-do list.

I’ve also heard that if you’re still breathing, it’s not too late to write a book. If you can speak into a machine or hold a pencil or click keys on a computer, you can still write your life story or the next great novel. 📖

It’s never too late to learn to cook, to go skydiving (remember George H. W. Bush), to go back to school, or to do anything you’ve always thought about doing.

And, it’s never too late to find true love.💕 Need proof? Just ask me. Last week Stewart asked me to marry him. I’m almost 79 and Stewart is 83 so it proves there’s no expiration date on finding love and getting married.  

We've both been married twice before. Our first marriages ended in divorce and our second marriages ended in death, both in 2014. We both lived in California a great number of years (without knowing each other) and we both moved back to the East Coast to be with our families just before or just after 2014. Neither of us were looking to get married again. Been there done that. We were happy being single and concentrating on our kids.

But, we have even more in common. Stewart's son Bill is married to my daughter Cyndi. So once we tie the knot, I'll not only be Bill's mother-in-law, I'll be his stepmom. And Stewart will be Cyndi's stepdad as well as her father-in-law. It all sounds so southern hillbilly, but we're not related by blood at all, just by our children's marriage. 

And it was our children that kept putting us together at family functions so we'd have someone our own age to talk to. Little did they know that the seed they planted would blossom as it did. 💘

We have no wedding date set yet; we'll let you know when our plans are firmed up. We  have our rings and they're gorgeous.  Here's my engagement ring. Never in a hundred years would I have imagined getting engaged at this late date in my life. So remember---

It's never too late. Don't you even think about giving up hope on life and love!




Quote of the Day: Age is only a number. My mom (who went parasailing at age 77)

An M&M Sunday

Vroom vroom! The cars are speeding around the track in the NASCAR playoffs.  It must be Sunday. Time for a nap while Stewart watches the races except, heaven help me, I’m getting to know the racers by their car sponsors and car numbers and have even picked my favorite driver, Kyle Busch. He drives No. 18 and since he’s sponsored by M&Ms, the car is blue with colorful candies painted on it. His older brother Kurt, driving No. 1 and sponsored by Monster Energy, is a fierce competitor. Another favorite of mine is No. 48 driven by Jimmie Johnson, mainly because I remember when he used to race in my hometown of El Cajon, CA. Local boy makes good.

What does this have to do with writing? Absolutely nothing. But it’s Sunday and I’m taking a day off and hope you are, too. Many years ago, my sister could tell you every winner of the Indianapolis 500 since it’s inception in 1911. Since I adored my older sister and wanted to be just like her, I developed a fringe interest in racing, for a while. Trust me, it didn’t last long. Then I met Stewart Hemby and the Hemby’s, including my son-in-law Bill, are avid race fans. Did I say avid?

Stewart is a southern boy after all and NASCAR is as much a part of the South as sweet tea and okra. I learned to like okra and now I can watch racing with a certain degree of interest. Just don’t hold your breath waiting for me to like sweet tea. I am a Vermonter born and bred and if you go anywhere in New England and ask for sweet tea, they look at you like you’re from outer space. I know because we were there this summer and that’s how the waitresses looked at Stewart.

Pardon me while I go get an M&M or two, or three, and help Kyle win this race. Mind you, I’m doing it strictly for Kyle, not me.

Quote of the Day: Finishing races is important, but racing is more important― Dale Earnhardt

Saving Lou

I have good news and bad news to report. 

Let's start with the bad news. I entered Saving Lou in the Military Writers Society of America (MWSA)  2019 contest back in February. The winners were announced at 9 pm on Sunday, August 11. There were many winners but, sadly, my name wasn't among them. I threw myself a little pity party and went to bed.

Here's the good news. Even though I was not a winner, my book is listed on the MWSA web site for all to see. Also, I received a review by them that I am pleased to post here.

Linda Loegel’s Saving Lou is an interesting and absorbing story about a family coming together to survive the depression and the separation of World War II.Lou Dyson is one half of a set of twins born in 1923. However, his brother Larry doesn’t survive to leave the hospital after birth, and Lou spends his whole life comparing himself to a brother he never knew. Struggling in school and life, Lou constantly feels that his brother Larry would have done it “better.” When the nation goes to war and Lou finds himself in the Navy, will combat at sea be enough to prove to himself that his life is worth living?This book is a story of a family coming together to overcome challenges. It is filled with love, concern, and heartache as the Dyson family deals with the Great Depression and World War II on the home front. The author uses the events in history as a backdrop to illustrate the importance of family, hard work, and service to country. Fans of World War II historical fiction will find this read worthwhile.

I have also received very nice reviews on Amazon. If you haven't read Saving Lou yet, I would urge you to buy the book and spend time with Lou Dyson. The book is available in paperback, Kindle, and audio.

Now excuse me, I need to get back to my pity party.

Quote of the day: Strength does not come from winning. Your struggles develop your strengths. When you go through hardships and decide not to surrender, that is strength. Mahatma Gandhi

Green Mountains, Music, Hospitals, and Chocolate

We’re back. From where? you ask. Vacationing in New England to see family for two weeks. Cyndi and Bill went with us, Cyndi driving the car with me in it and Bill driving the truck with his dad, Stewart, in it. We needed two vehicles to handle luggage for four, a rollator, oxygen compressor, nebulizer, etc. etc.  For fifteen hours we made a two-vehicle caravan going from Angier, North Carolina, to Fairfield, Connecticut, with a few stops to fuel up the vehicles and us. Do you know how tiring it is to travel that far even without doing the driving? Very!

My Sister Donna and Me

The first stop was to stay with my sister in Fairfield for a few days.  She and Stewart got to meet and we got to rest up. I drove Stewart all over creation showing him where I spent my teenage years. Our one "sightseeing" spot while there was St. Vincent’s Hospital in Bridgeport, CT. I knew Stewart was sick one morning when he refused coffee! He was listless all day at my sister’s, so we took him to E.R. where, of course, they elected to keep him overnight for a COPD flareup. He wasn’t happy to be admitted, but he was back to being himself the next morning, so they let him come home.

Bill, Donna, Stewart and Cyndi
 relaxing outside the motel in Barre

He was home in time to head further north, up to Vermont for two days for my cousin’s 50^th anniversary celebration. While in Barre, which is next door to the state’s capital, Montpelier, we went to Bragg Farms where they make maple sugar. They showed us the process then we of course visited the gift shop to buy real Vermont maple syrup and other gifts. My favorite purchase is a bumper sticker that says: “Vermont - What happens here, stays here. But nothing ever really happens.”  Another one says: “Bumpah stickah for your cah.” They appeal to my sense of humor and to the Vermont blood still in me from being born and raised in that state.  

Then it was back to Connecticut to stay with Tammy and Curtis for a few days. Happily, my son Mike and his son, Monterey, spent the weekend there, too, so we had good quality time together. Tammy and Curtis held a mini music fest in their back yard complete with stage, mikes, amps, tables of food, lights, flowers, and music, music, music.

We did manage to get a little sightseeing in. In Hartford, we went to the Mark Twain house and got to see where and how he lived. His house is next door to the Harriet Beecher Stowe home. He moved there purposely, after selling his first book, so he could perhaps become as well-known as she was at the time. I bought a small book, The Wit and Wisdom of Mark Twain which makes for some really good reading.

Mark Twain House

Then the caravan headed south and back to Angier.

Although we went north in one day, we took two days to come back home, stopping in Hershey, PA to visit Chocolate World and have a tour of how chocolate is made. And, of course, the gift shop. We have so much candy around here, our house looks like we’re ready for Halloween trick or treaters!

I managed to break an anchor tooth for my denture the day before we left to come home which made for a very painful trip. That problem is now being remedied by a dentist.

My kids - Cyndi, Tammy, Mike
at the music fest

All in all, Stewart and I have needed this last week to rest up from our vacation. I finally have the suitcases unpacked and laundry done. That’s enough for one week, don’t you think? I’d rather sit and relish the memories of my family all together in one place for one small moment in time.

Quote of the Day: No man needs a vacation so much as the man who just had one. Elbert Hubbard

Second Quote of the Day: The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page. St. Augustine

An Exciting Announcement

I have an announcement to make that has been a year-and-a-half in the making. Are you ready? Here it is—my latest novel, Remaking Danny, is now published and available on Amazon.

Here is the back cover blurb: After his rabbi declares that young Danny Epstein is now a man in the eyes of God, Danny witnesses a sight so gruesome he turns against a God that would allow such a thing to happen.

Now grown and a firefighter, Danny is adept at putting out fires in his hometown of Buffalo, NY, but can he put out the internal fires that have plagued him ever since his bar mitzvah?

It takes more than water to extinguish some flames.

This story takes place during the tumult of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Danny's struggles include a son who opposes him on the USA’s involvement in the Vietnam conflict, a wife who has grown distant, a life-changing accident, and a faith that has been MIA for most of his life.

This book has been a pleasure to write and I believe it goes deeper into a serious subject than any of my other books. I’m pleased with this story and hope it strikes a chord with readers.

Here are two excerpts from Remaking Danny.

Excerpt one: Unable to stop the tears now streaming down his face, Danny buried his face in his hands and trembled. He then heard himself cry out, "You probably don't remember me, God. I know I have no right to expect you to listen to me after ignoring you all these years since my bar mitzvah, but I gotta talk to someone. Can I talk to you? Can I tell you how helpless I feel right now with Josh in surgery and there's nothing I can do to fix it?"

Danny looked up at the sun's rays coming in the windows. "What do I do, God? Are you even there? Do you care about me and my family?"

Excerpt two: The rabbi moved a pile of papers off a chair and invited him to sit down. ”Look at you, walking in here, no wheelchair, no crutches, nothing but your two legs. What an answer to prayer!”

Danny grinned. “What prayer, Rabbi? That I’d be able to walk or that I’d come here?”

Now Rabbi Goldstein grinned. “Either one, my boy, either one. What can I do for you? Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

Danny nodded. “I don’t really know why I’m here. I was driving, lost in thoughts of my future, and found myself here.”

“And you think that’s a coincidence? My boy, you were led here.”

This book is available in print and as an eBook; just go to amazon.com and type in my name. If you order it, I’d be very pleased if you’d leave a comment on Amazon. You don’t have to, of course, but it would be helpful. Let me thank you in advance.

Quote of the Day: I don’t think that we're meant to understand it all the time. I think that sometimes we just have to have faith. Nicholas Sparks 

Rural Living

There are big cities and small towns. And then there are rural communities like mine--Angier, North Carolina. 

We’ve gotten a bit used to the idea that almost all of the restaurants and cafes close at two o’clock in the afternoon. If you’re hungry and want to stop in for a bite at three o’clock, you’re plumb out of luck. Some of the restaurants open again at five o’clock for the dinner crowd, but a lot of them don’t. This is true laid-back country living. Our best guess is that everyone takes a siesta in the afternoon because it’s obvious they aren’t serving food. You want a burger, go to McDonald’s, they’re always open.

Another way we can tell we’re in rural America is that there are fields alongside every road, all of which are in different stages of being plowed in anticipation of the growing season—mostly tobacco. You see John Deere equipment everywhere—on lawns, in fields, on the roads, everywhere. It’s evident no one here uses a push mower to mow their lawn; everyone rides a tractor.

Looks like the field across from our house will be one of the last to get plowed as it’s still a large expanse of green. They raised tobacco last year, what it’ll be this year is anyone’s guess. I’ll keep you updated on the planting progress. 

Rural living really hit home today when we stopped at a drugstore in the little town of Coats just south of Angier. Unlike Angier with a human population of five thousand--horses, cows and goats up the population number considerably--Coats has a population half that size. (But they do have a farm that sells delicious homemade ice cream!) Coats has two stop lights and if you blink, you’ll miss the town entirely. Coming home today from the bigger city of Dunn, (pop. 9500), we needed a product, okay Fixodent for dentures, and since we were driving right by the Coats drugstore, we figured that was as good a place as any to stop.

I entered the store, found what I wanted, and since there was only one tube on the shelf, asked the clerk if she had more in the back. She said, “No, we only stock one tube at a time, but if you want more than one, call us and we’ll order two or three for you and get it shipped here.”

After paying for the one tube, I walked out of the store laughing and shaking my head. What drugstore EVER carries only ONE of a product? Stewart and I laughed all the way home.

We definitely live in the country. Others can have the glitzy cities, I'll take our one-tube town any day.

Quote of the day: The country life is to be preferred, for there we see the works of God; but in cities little else but the works of men. And the one makes a better subject for contemplation than the other.  William Penn

  

Poetry, The Song of the Soul

There are many forms of poetry, but today we’re going to talk about my favorite form, and also a dying art, rhyming poetry.

Some poems tell a story and some poems evoke a feeling. Consider the following poem by Robert Herrick, Upon Julia’s Clothes:

               Whenas in silks my Julia goes

               Then, me thinks, how sweetly flowes

               That liquefaction of her clothes.

               Next, when I cast mine eyes and see

               That brave vibration each way free,

               O how that glittering taketh me!

In just six lines Robert Herrick paints such a vivid picture one can almost hear the rustling and see the billowing of Julia's silk gowns. 

Here's a four-line poem, by Edwin Markham, titled Outwitted:

            He drew a circle that shut me out-

            Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.

            But love and I had the wit to win:

            We drew a circle and took him in!

This poem has a story, contrast, conflict, and resolution, all in thirty-one words and you can almost skip to its beat.

Feel the rhythm, too, when you read these excerpt lines from What the Choir Sang About the New Bonnet by M. T. Morrison.   

            A foolish little maiden bought a foolish little bonnet

            With a ribbon and a feather and a bit of lace upon it.  

A structured poem rolls right off one's tongue.  The following beautiful poem, Jenny Kissed Me, by Leigh Hunt describes one poignant moment in time:

Jenny kissed me when we met,

Jumping from the chair she sat in.

Time, you thief! Who love to get

Sweets into your list, put that in.

Say I'm weary, say I'm sad;

Say that health and wealth have missed me;

Say I'm growing old, but add-

Jenny kissed me!

Read these lines from Paul Revere’s Ride by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and feel the rhythm:           

            Listen, my children, and you shall hear

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five,

Hardly a man is now alive

Who remembers that famous day and year.

Another benefit to rhyming poetry is the mnemonic value of making things easy to remember.  How many of us would know how many days there were in July if it weren’t for “Thirty days hath September….?”    

The following excerpt from a poem entitled Memory by Abraham Lincoln shows how words can evoke strong feelings.

My childhood's home I see again,

            And sadden with the view,

            And still, as memory crowds my brain,

            There's pleasure in it, too.

            I range the fields with pensive tread,

            And pace the hollow rooms,

            And feel (companion of the dead)

            I'm living in the tombs.

For a change of pace, using only four lines, John C. Bossidy aptly illustrates the snobbishness of Boston's upper crust in A Boston Toast:

            And this is good old Boston,

            The home of the bean and the cod,

            Where the Lowells talk to the Cabots,

            And the Cabots talk only to God.

 Such poetry, whether humorous or serious, literally sings to the reader and touches one’s soul.  What more can a person ask of a poem?

Quote of the Day: A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom. Robert Frost 

Three Kids, Two Books, One Bowl of Jello-O, and a Spine

Two Books. That’s what it took to raise my three children. The first book was a big mistake, the second was a lifesaver.

My girls were born in 1963 and ’64 and the popular book at that time was Baby and Child Care by Dr. Benjamin Spock. Forget my mother’s advice, what did she know? She raised me and my sister to be fine upstanding adults, but she was no Dr. Spock. She only raised children the way her mother and countless mothers before her had. She snapped my lips if I sassed her; Dr. Spock, on the other hand, entreated mothers to listen to their children, understand why they did what they did (even sassing adults) and treat them as unique individuals whose motives needed to be examined and fully understood.

As a child, my hand was slapped if I reached for a hot stove. According to Dr. Spock, one must move the child away from the stove and distract her with a toy. Hence, the child never learned that some things in this world are dangerous.

Baby and Child Care was my bible. I devoured it and lived totally by its precepts, always trying to understand the psyche behind my girls’ motives. My mother swatted my behind first and asked questions later. As a disciple of Dr. Spock, I asked so many questions I never got around to the swatting part. Consequently, I wasn’t a very good mother.

Kids need rules and boundaries and a good sense of right and wrong. They don’t need an adult friend, they need an adult who’s actually a parent.

By the time my son was born in 1972, I still believed in the teachings of Dr. Spock, but learned soon enough that perhaps the good doctor didn’t know everything about rearing children. My mother would have used his book only to sit me up higher at the kitchen table where I would be told to eat what was on my plate. (Thank heavens my father wasn’t as strict about making me eat things I didn’t like!)

When my son was sixteen, he was a handful so along came the second book, Tough Love by Phyllis and David York. Tough Love taught me that I had more power than I ever imagined. That although I couldn’t control his actions, I could control how I responded to them. It told me that I had rights, too. Who knew? It said that I had the right to live in a peaceful house, an intact and clean environment, and have a night’s sleep without worry of where my son was. The concept was simple and I wished I’d learned it when the girls were young instead of letting them twist me into knots wondering how I should respond. Tough Love taught me that I could give my son a curfew of eleven o’clock and if he wasn’t in by then, the doors would be locked and a blanket and pillow placed on the porch for him. What happened? He never missed curfew from the first night the rule went into effect.

Baby and Child Care turned me into a bowl of Jell-O, constantly afraid of making a decision that might harm my children’s psyche.

Tough Love gave me a spine.

The moral of the story is . . . well, I’m not exactly sure. All three kids turned out to be excellent adults, people I’m extremely proud of, not because of, but in spite of, my parenting.

Books can be powerful. Be discriminating in what you read.

Quote of the day: Everybody knows how to raise children, except the people who have them. P.J. O’Rourke

Keep the Change

I have a special treat for you today. I'm sitting here with a friend and author, Thaabit Hedgepeth. Thaabit has written a book that is probably not the type you normally read and is about a subject you most likely are not familiar with--life behind prison bars. Thaabit went to prison at age 16 for two counts of murder and is here today to show that a person CAN turn his life around, if he chooses to.

Welcome, Thaabit. I'm so happy to have you here. Tell us a little about your life now. 

I'm from Raleigh, NC. I've been married to my awesome wife for 11 years and we have two very beautiful children, ages 10 and 7. Outside of my writing and speaking career, I've been in the restaurant industry for the past 12 years and am currently a General Manager for Zaxby's.

How long have you been writing?

My infatuation with writing actually began in the first grade, over 30 years ago, writing love letters to various girls in school. While I received many 'no's' to the question, "Will you be my girlfriend?" I received great feedback on the writing itself. I could always see how moved they were by the words. Writing took on a different level of importance at the age of eight when I placed second in a North Carolina Public School poetry contest. 

What type of writing do you normally do?

Non-fiction and poetry.

Give us a brief synopsis of your book.  

My book, Keep the Change, is the blueprint for anyone struggling with life's challenges and obstacles, helping them become the person they've always desperately fought to be. 

Tell us what prompted you to write it?

Facing life in prison at the age of 16 for two counts of first degree murder, I was left with only two options. I could either accept responsibility for my actions and change my mindset and behaviors, or I could continue down a path of destruction which would ultimately result in death. I wrote, Keep the Change, for those like myself, who struggle with the idea of changing their thoughts and behaviors, which in turn, helps them change their lives. My goal is to touch and impact as many people as possible.

How long did it take you to write this book?

Nearly nine months.

Do you have a favorite line from the book?

One of my favorite lines is, "On your path to change, commitment is the gift birthed from the womb of discipline and consistency. Its parent is determination."

Is Keep the Change published and, if so, when and by whom?

It was self-published through Amazon's KDP in January, 2019.

How can my readers get a copy?

Readers can get a copy on my website, www.thaabitspeaks.com/keep-the-change. It can also be purchased on Amazon.com.

What do you do besides write?

Outside of writing, I'm also a keynote speaker and mentor, empowering today's youth and shaping tomorrow's leaders.

What is your advice to would-be writers?

I'm sure it's cliche, but no matter what, just write. I also believe it's very important to surround yourself with other writers via a group or just personal connections. This could not have been possible without the support, encouragement, and feedback from the awesome writers I've been blessed to have met and built relationships with. Shout-out to Linda, Barbara, Pam, Christine, and Jim for all of your help along the way!

What do you wish you knew when you started your writing career?

I wish I would've understood the importance of marketing and promotion long before the book is released. If it is to impact others, it must first reach them.

What’s next for Thaabit Hedgepeth?

Now that the weight of publishing my first book has been lifted and I'm officially an 'author', the next step is to continue writing and publishing books. My vision is to inspire and impact people across the world to live lives of greatness and reward!

Friends, I encourage you all to buy this book and read it. You'll get not only an inside look at life behind bars but also at the road that led Thaabit to prison in the first place. Find out what it took for him to turn his life around. 

Quote of the Day:  Two men look out the same prison bars; one sees mud and the other stars. Beck

Dear Diary

Last week I bought a 2019 diary to have available for January 1^st.  It sat at the ready on my nightstand waiting to be opened and have the first words of a new year etched in it.

On a personal note, my diaries are more like Sgt. Friday’s journals--just the facts, ma’am. No deep insights or personal reflections or heartfelt gushing. Just where I went, what I did and occasionally what celebrity died or who won the Superbowl. Period. If you suffer from insomnia and want a sleeping aid, read my diary. It’s boring with a capital B. BUT, it does serve a purpose as I’m able to look back and see when I took a vacation, bought a car, moved, you get the picture. Just don’t ask me how I felt about the vacation, car, or move, because you won’t find it there. I keep my emotions to myself so not even Dear Diary knows how I feel.

What’s the purpose of this? It's to say that we all have a brand-new year ahead of us and how we fill those empty pages is yet to be known. When the year comes to an end and you and I have bought a new 2020 diary, what will this current one be filled with? Will there be events we never could have imagined? Some really amazing thing that happened? Some bad news that took us to the brink?

It’s a good thing we don’t have a crystal ball and can see the future for if we could, we’d just go ahead and fill in all the pages without waiting for the days to arrive on the calendar. As it is, we have to wait and see what each new day brings. And that, my friends, is the beauty of life. Every day is different and, like a book, it has a new beginning, a half-way point, and a finale at day’s end. And the next day we arise to see what that day will bring.

What will you say at the end of this year: What a great ride 2019 was? How glad you are that it’s over?  Only time will tell and it's not telling us, just yet.

Quote of the day: “What a wonderful thought it is that some of the best days of our lives haven’t even happened yet.”  Anne Frank