To Be Continued. . .

       A true introvert, I have reached this stage of what most people call 'life; rather than 'living' by continually observing, evaluating and then reacting to the people and activities presented to me.  On occasion, I can/am able to initiate, footprint or series of events, but, in large part, mine is a reactionary experience.
       The most salient and recent example of this phenomenon is the absence, indeed retreat from, the writing of this blog.  Stimuli abounded - personal, familial and circumstantial - but although there was no lack in response or resolution, there was a contemporaneous lack - nay, refusal - to record and share via the written word.
       Although my choice did not prevail unobserved, it's also true that the remainder of the "class-of-'66-ers", them my sketchy readership included, seemed, after at least one polite query - Run out of pens?, computer acting up?, Taking a well-earned break from that lonely 'writers' grind'? - continued to trundle along their respective (and respectable) life paths with well-earned vacas, eating right, getting enough exercise, having serious 'almost-at-the-age-of-retirement' age  chats regarding whether, and if so, to which life alert system they should  be bargaining with.  Or, what was in their safe or that clever Greg guy on The Five's bon mot of the day was.  (I'm just awful with names.  Can't tell you how many times I've introduced myself as Harry.)
       And we were discussing - ah, yes - the much-heralded, breaking news and its ranking among the genuine public services.  The good news: it could be just the ticket to cheering up a worry-weary general public; The bad news: 'Brain to L: it's your thing and can ONLY get better.  (Does she choose now to gift us with a, "to be continued", please God?)
       Truth be told, it's a need - right up there with the four basic food groups and discreet portable catheters - and as such, to some degree, self-fulfilling.  That it also has a modest following, rumors to the contrary notwithstanding: Numbers don't lie.  Nor does Linked In.  Those folks are consummately legit. But I digress.  (Surprise.)
       Today's entry is truly multi fold.  It was the last day of August - a month that bas been most celebratory over the years.  You may recall that two of the finest (and most-admired by yours truly) women I've ever known - my Mother Julia and dearest friend - and mother of seven - Kathleen Nora Dehler were August babies.  Grand peep Number Seven, Wesley, celebrated his first birthday on the seventeenth.

       And on this day in 1982, we were blessed with our fourth  child, Declan.  Tragically, at age seventeen months, he aspirated while giggling and ultimately had to return to his Creator shortly thereafter.  Wounded deeply but blessed with the strength to go on, we are.  And, my writing respite terminated, "Abyssinia"!
       Later, Lorane. . . .