family

Photo: Happy Father’s Day

Categories: Autism, coal region, family, holidays, lehigh valley, Pennsylvania, scouting | Leave a comment

A broken blogger

Today is Good Friday… so why don’t I feel “good?” Yes, I’m having a far better day than Jesus did, but… that isn’t exactly comforting – especially since I get the “you can’t be sad, there are millions of people who would KILL to have your so-called ‘problems’” (I know, I wrote a post addressing that topic about 3-4 years ago).

What set me off today was a relatively innocuous post on “The Joy of Autism.”

Ignoring or pretending someone isn’t there is a form of BULLYING. ~ Joy of Autism

 

I actually hadn’t thought of it like that – for me, it was often a relief FROM bullying. However, it made me realize that I’ve experienced nearly every kind of bullying – and several forms of discrimination – over my life. Honestly, the only ones I don’t have are physical and sexu…aw, damnit.

Actually, two separate incidents come to mind – one when I was 12 and the other 15-16 – one likely more serious than the other (though neither actually amounted to much in the long run and both parties have likely long forgotten all about their respective incidents – just as I thought I had).

I don’t know how to describe the first incident. I was away from home for the first time at what my parents called a “summer camp for kids with ADHD” (more like a 6 week “my first program” with sneering counselors, therapy games and roommates who clearly resented sharing space with a “retard”). As I said, I was 12, and they had these things called “showers” (a concept I was wholly unfamiliar with at the time as I only knew baths) …so some adjustment was needed. Anyway, I was trying to clean the foreskin (it was a reddish grey color, which I assumed was just dirt) when suddenly my penis started pulsing wildly and exploded all over the shower wall and pretty much shocking the Hell out of me, not to mention nearly making me slip and hurt myself. I refused to even think about touching it again for the rest of the summer (I was there for both 3 week sessions).

I came out and the counselor wasn’t happy with me. Saying I had no reason to “take some damned long” in there and obviously had no idea “how to take a shower” (he was technically right on that front, so I couldn’t call it an “insult”). You can see where this is going, right?

Yep, the next morning, when it was time to think about showering, he rather irritably followed me into the shower room as I was getting undressed and when I got into the shower he barked: “Don’t close that curtain. You obviously have no fucking clue how to take a shower so I’ll have to ‘guide’ you through the fucking process. I like this as much as you do, so shut up, you’re wasting water!” It was extremely uncomfortable for me with him watching me from 5-feet away (he wasn’t in there WITH me, it just felt like it) and he was acting like HE was the one being punished for “having” to do it. Fortunately, I never “forced” him to do it again, but it made our interactions awkward and may even be the reason I avoid showers unless absolutely necessary.

The second one was arguably more serious. I was 15-16 and visiting my cousin Andrew’s beach house in NJ for the summer. His mom was driving and we were play wrestling in the back of her van (the seats were folded down). You can see where this is going too, right? No, we didn’t have sex, but his mom acted like I just raped her 10-year-old son in front of her. She was FURIOUS, and, while I can appreciate her diligence, I literally had no idea WHY she was screaming profanities at me for demonstrating a move I saw on TV (and just like TV – no contact was actually made, but she didn’t believe me nor give me a chance to talk. I was “fucking evil” and had “no business touching, let alone being near children ever again” and to this day, any time a child touches me I hear Cousin Twinks screaming at me. I couldn’t even talk to either of them at my aunt’s 10th wedding anniversary last year (I know they were both there, as they were seated at the table directly across from mine).

I consider these both acts of bullying. They consider their behavior justified – just like a story I was going to tell from Benchmark about psychical abuse\bullying (which still makes me paranoid at night), but I don’t have either the room or the mental stamina to continue with that train of thought in this post. Maybe some better Friday…

 

Update: In the meantime, I have examples of other more direct forms of bullying on this blog (all of them, conveniently enough, also entirely my own fault making the other party completely blameless for their behaviors regardless of how rude, mean, spiteful or otherwise hurtful they were): “Food Court Follies,” “A Family Frustration,” “Running Out of Ikeas” and to a vaguer extent “National Disappointment Day.”

Categories: Advocacy\volunteer, Autism, family, Gay rights, Health, holidays | Leave a comment

National Disappointment Day

Today is National Siblings Day in the US. Yah.

I have two brothers, we aren’t as close (or anywhere near as supportive) as some siblings I’ve seen around the FB community, but we aren’t openly feuding to my knowledge. I’m a huge “disappointment” to them (yes, that’s an actual quote not an emphasis), but they (usually) aren’t mad about it, bro…

The lack of hostility doesn’t necessarily translate to acceptance or support, but if something goes wrong, they are more than happy to blame me for it. Don’t worry, even if it is demonstrably PROVEN beyond even the tiniest shadow of a doubt that it wasn’t my fault, it’s still my fault because… um, it just is.

I get invited to their major parties and what not, but it feels more like what they are expected to do than a sincere request. Maybe it’s just my “overactive imagination,” but as welcome as they say I am, it doesn’t feel like I actually belong there. It’s subtle, but unshakable.

Kind of like the difference between icy “awareness” and the warm embrace of “acceptance” (which I don’t think they’ve gotten to yet). If I had to put it into words, it would probably be like lukewarm resentment with a mildly friendly veneer over it.

Actually, I think my middle brother put it best: “You know, Sibling Day isn’t a real holiday.”

How disappointing – especially since I was looking forward to using that cute “I love my brother” graphic I swiped off FB at the top of this post. Maybe next year…

Categories: Autism, family, holidays, ramblings | 1 Comment

Holiday week in review

Dec 21st – My flight from Orlando to Baltimore was frustratingly delayed over an hour for unknown reasons so it was already dark by the time we landed at Baltimore-Washington International. I’m used to BWI, but I was completely unprepared for cold, wind… or the 35-cent increase in Light Rail fares. Due to my relatively late arrival in HVTC (7:30pm), mom decided she would pick me the next morning so I had an awful dinner at Panera Bread and could barely find my hotel in the scarcely lit side street surrounding the mall, let alone feel my ears\nose\fingers.

Dec 22nd – Overnight in Hunt Valley. Nothing exciting to report here except that I was going to post Hanukkah memes, but couldn’t find enough that weren’t juvenile or anti-Semitic. I’m all for humor (which is why I compile these meme posts to begin with), but NOT at the expense of others.

We got back to Shamokin barely in time to meet my aunt (yes, THAT one, and while I wasn’t looking forward to it, it went relatively well) and her boyfriend at a popular pizza place in the next town over. I say “barely” because mom turned down the wrong street and got completely lost so we had to ask Siri how to get back. However, I can say with certainty that “the best pizza in town” isn’t.

Dec 24th – Normally, we spend Christmas Eve going to my parent’s friends the Nye’s house for a special holiday themed “open house” at 5:30 for dinner (featuring “Uncle Paulie” in the world’s least convincing Santa outfit) before heading over to the Candlelight Service (7pm). THIS year, instead of doing that we went to my brother’s house in Nazareth for a Christmas Eve dinner with his family (wife, and two young children). It was loud, hectic and crowded, but I got some nice pictures.

Since said dinner wasn’t until at least 5pm, mom decided it was safer to stay overnight. I was downstairs in the basement on an uncomfortable air mattress with sheets that were too small to actually be of any use. Fortunately, the ticking of the clock 3 feet away from said mattress was loud enough to keep me awake until the heat kicked on around 2am.

Dec 25th – Did I mention, the kids “slept in” until 6am? Slackers. By the time I admitted defeat and headed upstairs around 7:15am, the living and sitting rooms were a complete war zone. Toys, wrapping paper, boxes, unopen able plastic containers. On the plus side, my “gift,” a plastic card for a gas station (your brother has no license and no car and you get him a gift certificate to a gas station?) was waiting for me in a tiny box in an otherwise untouched stack of gifts on the other side of the sofa. Breakfast was at 9am and was good. As soon as we finished, we packed our stuff in mom’s van and drove 5.3 miles to my OTHER brother’s house in Bethlehem.

It was 11am by the time we arrived, and my sister-in-law had just put out the last of her Christmas brunch. My mom chastised me “how can you say you are trying to ‘lose weight’ when you had not one but TWO breakfasts in two hours?” The conversation at the table I shared with my mom, brother, SIL and her parents quickly went from light and humorous to dark and slightly disturbing (dead pets, bird attacks, death camps and Donald Trump. I pitied my SIL for trying to keep the conversation as light as possible. After less than an hour there, we left and made the roughly 90-minute commute back to the middle of nowhere, where we could contemplate our nothing lives. At least, I don’t need a password for my mom’s wifi…

Dec 26th – Before today, I would have assumed this would be a separate post. You see today is the day BOTH my brothers came to Shamokin and brought their kids with them…but we weren’t here to celebrate Christmas. We were here to work, cleaning up the garage, my dad’s den and what’s left of the basement. We got the den passable – in that one is actually able to pass through it without killing themselves.

The reason only ONE of the three areas was tackled was our mom decided since my eldest was coming in around 11am, we would meet him at a REAL pizza place along with my aunt and her boyfriend (who was able to come in because it was “slow” in his shop), my other brother came in with his family at quarter-til-12 so we weren’t out of there until almost 2pm.

After this, we were ready to work…until my middle brother got an important call on his cell which left us in limbo for almost a full hour. Finally, we get to go outside and open a mysterious chest in the garage (dad wanted “all 5 boys” present for it, but my 3yo nephew and his older sister went home with their mom after lunch). Good news, there was stuff inside it; bad news, it was boring stuff so my SIL took my remaining nephew home while the three girls stayed behind and played Clue in the living room with gramma while the three of us tackled the desk\cabinets\miscellaneous stacks of paper between them (dating back to 1973). The girls definitely won the night…

 

Categories: adventures, Baltimore, coal region, family, florida, flying, Harrisburg, holidays, light rail, Orlando, Pennsylvania, transportation, weather | Leave a comment

Running out of Ikeas

Woke up, checked out of Saratoga Springs, and my mom drive me to Costco on Waterbridge Boulevard…just to find out that it’s a “Business Costco” now and doesn’t carry food (“except,” as their greeter pointed out, “for restaurant, food truck or vending machine routes” – none of which do ME any good).

I told her that we should’ve gone back to the condo and dropped off my luggage first so we had space to put stuff in, but nooo “oh, what are you talking about?” (waving towards the full trunk with both of our luggage in it).

“I’m talking about the fact that there is no more room back there for groceries and whatever else you end up getting.”

“There is PLENTY of room for stuff in this car. Now just get in the car, we still have to check out and find this Costco.”

Apparently, a 2015 Honda Civic and a 2009 Chrysler Town & Country have the exact same storage capacity. How did I not know that?

Come out of the store nearly an hour later and – surprise – there’s no room in the trunk so we have to cram everything into the back seat so it doesn’t fall over or roll under the front seat. Once again, it’s my turn to “navigate.”

Get back to the apartment, unload the car, mom opens my freezer and declares: “Oh my God, it’s EMPTY. Get in the car, I am taking you to a ‘real’ Costco, and we’re not coming back until you fill this fridge up…”

I get in her rental car, buckle my seat belt (safety first) and as soon as she gets in the car she asks:

“I’m starving. Where’s a restaurant we can eat at?”

“You mean like the immediate area, on I-Drive or near the mall?”

“The mall – and it has to be something GOOD. I don’t care where we go, but no fast food or food courts – I want a REAL meal.”

I’ve been to the Mall at Millennia exactly three times so I’m obviously an expert on this. Did I mention, it’s 2:38 in the afternoon?

“Let’s see there’s a Cheesesteak Factory inside the mall.”

“Eh, no.”

“There’s also a Johnny Rockets.”

“I said ‘no fast food.’ Maybe, I’ll just get meatballs at Ikea…”

Ikea? I thought this was a FOOD run.

“Oh, yeah,” she continued. “That means you have 8 minutes to figure out which furniture you want.”

I don’t recall even asking for furniture. Oh right, SHE said I “need” a “pull out sofa” for my “guest room.” I lived in Baltimore for SIX YEARS without one, and not one of my zero “guests” complained about it.

So we go up the stairs to the café, and walk around the side to the entrance just to find out that side is “closed” and we pretty have to go all the back around. I look at the menu hanging behind them, I want the Swedish meatballs, but not the mashed potatoes as a side (so I never liked mashed potatoes, sue me). I ask the young woman behind the counter if the sides are “set” and before I can ask the second part of the question she answers “yes.”

Not happy with her answer but faced with no other choice, I order a bland chicken tender meal (which is apparently part of their “Kid’s menu,” but that doesn’t make me feel better about it). I had to wait for a new batch so at least it was hot, and as I picked up my tray, I saw a sign advertising different sides for your meal.

After finishing our meal and bussing our own table (not sure why that surprised me), mom circles around the cashier lines and heads towards the exit to the showroom. She walks ten feet into said showroom, looks around bewilderedly saying:

“What the…? Why are we in the Children’s section? Why is this arrow pointing away from the furniture?”

“Because this is the ‘exit,’ the ‘entrance’ is back that way.”

“No, it’s not. That’s the way we came in.”

“I know.”

“Fine, you lead,” she said shoving the cart towards me exasperatedly.

Somehow, I suspect that was goal from the onset.

Anyway, Ikea sofas come in three styles: Ugly, uncomfortable or both. Oh, and you can choose any of a half dozen garish slip covers to make it look like a Swedish hipster threw up all over your living room.

I wasn’t sure if I should tell this part or not. I’m not even sure HOW to tell this part…but I’ll start by saying that Ikea is a big store with rows and rows of every unpronounceable furniture and textiles running along both sides of their bright white corridors.

As much as I tried to focus on JUST sofas or just TV stands, it was just too much of too much. Hundreds of sofa, loveseats, futons, and chaises sometimes rows of them hanging on the wall. Suddenly my mom appeared directly behind me and asked me if I decided on a new sofa yet.

“No”

“What do mean ‘no?’ You’ve been farting around in here for the past twenty minutes.”

“I mean ‘no,’” I said. My voice broke. It’s a reaction to stress, and I do anything to avoid that happening in public so of course my mom alleviates it the only way she knows how:

“What the hell is WRONG with you? Why the fuck are you talking like that? God, do you know how embarrassing that is?”

No, why don’t you draw attention to it so all the other shoppers can stare at me too. Not like that would make the situation harder – especially since she refuses to take a squeaky “I don’t know” as a serious answer.

“You CHOSE to talk like…um, whatever the hell THAT is, for a REASON. That means you can chose to STOP doing it.”

Um, no. The only way to “stop” talking like that is to keep talking until my body or brain or whatever is in charge of that sort of thing decides to sort it out. Yelling at me in public over it does not move it along any faster.

Finally, she throws her hands up in the air and storms off exasperatedly. After a minute or two of chattering to myself my voice returned to “normal” (which I’m told is like that of a GIRL 25 years my junior).

It was already after 4pm when we left Ikea. Fortunately, the next stop was only a five-minute drive away. Even better – it was a “real” Costco. Aside from a medical-office sized cup of some bland so- I mean “Sparkling Water” and a cracker with salmon dip – there was nothing remarkable about the experience.

We leave the second Costco, and it’s pitch black and raining. Just as well, I wasn’t planning on going to the parks tonight anyway…

Categories: adventures, Autism, family, florida, holidays, Orlando, sensory processing disorder | 1 Comment

Unbelievable

I called my mom this afternoon to tell her my brother called me – he didn’t even blame anything on me. She called me back about an hour and a half later to discuss my Annual Pass (which unlocks on Aug 11th) which reminded her of this post’s eponymous question:

“Did you ever apologize to your aunt (redacted)?”

“For what?”

“For that little, um, ‘dust-up’ of yours.”

“You mean what SHE did to ME at Baylake Towers?”

“That was all YOUR fault, and you know it. You need to apologize to her. Immediately.”

Wait, WHAT? Seriously? There is absolutely no way I was hearing this correctly.

“Soo you’re telling me her behavior towards me was completely appro-“

“Oh my God, don’t you dare start this shit with me. ‘Cuz I don’t want to hear it.”

Let me get this straight: You bring it up, but you “don’t want to hear it?” Makes total sense.

“Her behavior was completely appro-“

THAT IS IT,” she roars. “If you say another word about this, I will hang up on you – right now! Do you understand me? You are acting like a SPOILED CHILD, and I WILL hang up on-“

Right, ‘cuz, you know, this shit is so easy for me to deal with. I totally love to have nightmares about this when I go to bed. They’re really fun so are flashbacks whenever I see my DVC bag on the floor.

“Her behavior was unjustified and ABUSIVE and she knew [dial tone] it.”

And to think I was in such a good mood all day. No wait, I am. Contrary to what the above transcript would have you believe, I did absolutely nothing wrong here. I refuse to feel guilty because someone else once again refuses to listen to her own son.

Yes, I already know my apology isn’t coming. Heck, I knew that back in May. Personally, I’ve got better things to worry about… while I’m awake anyway.

Categories: adventures, Autism, family | Leave a comment

A family frustration

“Hey, Johnny,” my aunt said on our final day at Bay lake Tower. “Would you pick that shit off the floor?”

“We’re already an hour behind schedule. Housekeeping is right outside our door. Let’s just go while there’s still daylight.”

“I don’t care. I said: Pick. It. Up.”

Remember in my previous post I said about “flight or fight.” Well, I can’t fee so congratulations I’m now frozen. Meanwhile, she’s losing a game of Mahjong Tiles on her iPhone.

“God, Johnny, what the FUCK is WRONG with you? God, you’re acting like a spoiled three-year-old.”

Second time she’s “asked” me that this week, and I can’t correct her this time either. My brain and body are both frozen. I literally couldn’t do this even if I wanted to and if I did I could pat myself on the head and say: “good job, you’ve just been cowed. You’re really good at being bullied.

“You know what,” she said putting her game down and storming across the room glaring at me the entire me. “You know WHAT? THIS is what I SHOULD do instead…”

Something tells me this is not going to end well…

She kneels down, picks up the trash and, rather than throwing it away as I expected, she then turns around, points at me with her spare hand.

“Hey, Johnny, watch,” she growled with a twisted smile. “I SAID ‘WATCH.’ I’m going to teach you a fucking lesson about PISSING ME OFF!”

She rips my luggage open and smirks at me as she drops all the stuff from the floor into it.

“Problem SOLVED! See how EASY that was? Ten fucking seconds was all it took because YOU were TOO FUCKING LAZY to do it! Well, now, it’s YOUR problem, FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

Just a reminder, I’M the villian here. That’s what I get for choosing to have my brain freeze instead of being able to effortlessly volley back and forth like a “normal” person.

When I finally regained control, I tried to get her to admit that maybe – just maybe – her actions were wrong, hurtful or otherwise inappropriate. She didn’t recant – she doubled down:

“Awww, did that ‘hurt your feelings,’ Johnny? GOODThat’s what you get for PISSING ME THE FUCK OFF!”

I never got an apology or admittance of wrong-doing, but a little bit of nettling got her to admit that she was acting out of “frustration.”

Let’s recap the lesson here: It’s okay to rip open someone else’s luggage and desecrate its contents because you’re “frustrated.” Perfectly, 100% A-OK, ask any judge… but somehow I suspect if the roles were reversed it would be called “bullying” at best and…um… okay, so I couldn’t find anything relevant on the first page of search results, but I’m sure it’s bad.

It doesn’t matter as my mom constantly likes to remind me my perception is so “twisted around that you can’t tell if someone is ‘angry’ or speaking calmly and rationally” so even if I did have a case, I have no “credibility.” In other words, people can say or do whatever the hell they want to me and have their alleged behaviors instantly dismissed because I’m “too stupid” to know what they were anyway.

Speaking of mom, she appeared out of hiding and announced that she was finally ready to take everything down to the car. But then on the way out the door, she asks me what I did to cause such a “ruckus” in the room.

“I didn’t anything.”

“Exactly,” my aunt said snidely. “He didn’t DO anything.”

“That was uncalled for,” I said.

“Why? You DIDN’T ‘DO’ anything.”

“Enough,” mom said. “Stop! God, what the hell has gotten into you? You’re acting like a spoiled THREE-YEAR-OLD! STOP IT! STOP IT, RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”

Keep in mind, this is a hallway at a popular Disney resort hotel, and she’s acting like I’M the one acting bratty here when all I did was defend myself. Why do I keep forgetting, only “normal” people can do that?

“Your yelling isn’t help-”

“I am NOT ‘yelling’ at you. God, why the hell do you have to think everyone is ‘yelling’ at you all the fucking time? I am talking in a perfectly CALM and REASONABLE MANNER! NOW STOP IT, RIGHT NOW!”

“You ARE, and it’s only giving me a bigger headache.”

“A ‘headache,’ YOU have a ‘headache,’” she said stopping, turning around and pointing her finger in my face threateningly. “I don’t HAVE to take you back to your apartment. You can take the god damned BUS back. Do you WANT to do that? Huh, DO you? Well, then KEEP IT UP or I WILL leave you the fuck here! Do you understand me?”

“See, Johnny, your ma don’t fuck around.”

So to recap, my aunt is making snide cutting remarks about me, but I’m the one getting yelled at AND now I have threats to contend with too. To be fair, the original plan was to drop me off at the T&TC so I could take the bus 50 back to SeaWorld…it wasn’t until we were about to leave the first time that she suggested driving me back to the condo.

In fact, at THIS point, it would have been a welcome break from the yelling and hostility. That’s when I decided to take my bag – sorry, the bag my aunt desecrated because she apparently can do whatever the fuck she wants to it – and bypass the elevator to take the stairs down four floors to the lobby (beating them by two full minutes).

When they emerged into the lobby, they were talking about how perfectly calm and reasonable they were being as if I wasn’t even there.

“Yeah,” mom said off-handedly as she opened the trunk of the rental car. “I even asked him if he ‘wanted to take the bus back,’ but he declined so I guess he can guide us back.”

“Hell, it’s HIS town…”

SERIOUSLY?

Are they fucking KIDDING me?

She didn’t ‘ask’ me anything – she THREATENED to have me “take the bus back” if I didn’t “STOP IT, RIGHT NOW!” Because yelling always calms a situation in which I’m trying desperately hard NOT to be angry and loud (as there were presumably guests in all the rooms we passed on the way to the elevators).

On the plus side, that meant the ordeal was almost over, which was good because my headache was only getting stronger…

Categories: adventures, Autism, disney world, family, florida, Orlando | 2 Comments

Humor: Thursday mourning

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Categories: cartoons\memes, coal region, family, humor, Pennsylvania | Leave a comment

Photo: “The Cousins Photo”

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The obligatory “Cousins Photo,” which we had to take because “all seven cousins are here!”

I look AWFUL in this picture.

Categories: coal region, family, Pennsylvania, photography | Leave a comment

Hanging in

Wednesday: Missed the bus to the airport this morning because I went to the wrong stop. In fairness, it WAS 5am and I was running on 2hrs of sleep (after packing and making plane reservations). I barely made it through security in time for my flight, but with the exception of minor turbulence coming into Charlotte, the rest of my trip went relatively smoothly with me arriving at MDT at 1:07pm (four minutes ahead of schedule).

My brother Andy and I arrived at the house around 3pm, and I almost didn’t recognize it: as he and my older brother Ned had spent the past four weekends sorting out his stuff whenever he fell asleep. It was a huge deal to be able to not only see but to actually be able to walk across the floor without worrying about knocking any of his towering piles of stuff over.

The meeting with the funeral director was long and arduous as we went over details for music, flowers, even the menu for the wake (to be held after the service). Then came the part about interviewing us for the obituary (which he initially said would run as a “teaser” on Friday and “in full” in Saturday’s edition). Once that was over, we met with my aunt Mary-Ann and her boyfriend at a local sports bar. It wasn’t necessarily my first choice (our options are kind of limited in town), but we did have a good time considering the circumstances even if I was on the wrong end of the table to make any meaningful part in the conversation.

Thursday: The funeral director came by in the morning to drop off the galley of the obituary for “corrections.” God, did it need them as everything they could get wrong, they did: his name, his place of birth, his rank in the Air Force, etc. Their grammar was almost as bad as their notetaking so I was basically forced to rewrite it from scratch as many of my dad’s friends came by or called to wish us their condolences.

Most of the afternoon was spent helping my brother cleaning up my dad’s den\garage. Piles of books, papers, folders, etc. were all boxed up and taken to the recycling center over on Venn Access (the garage alone took two trips – and we only tackled the front half of it). It wasn’t much… but like mom said to someone on the phone:

“It’s amazing how quickly you can delete all traces of a person’s life,” she said continuing with a sigh. “One day you have valuable possessions and then s-suddenly it’s all ‘trash’ to be thrown out.”

Friday: Woke up to see the changes Andy made to the obit this morning’s paper (I dreamed they made a bigger deal at the paper: editorial, op-ed & memorial cartoon). It made it seem so “final.”

I’m doing my best to keep everything together. Today is a “slow” day (most of his friends were here\called yesterday) It’ll be MUCH harder tomorrow when the rest of the family starts arriving for the viewing…

Categories: coal region, family, flying, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania | Leave a comment

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