The Last Dinosaur

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What a story they would have to tell. The battered, cat shredded and tired hardbound journals from 1974 through 1994.

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Duck: A good day. Met us at the door. He didn’t remember going to the derm doc, but he still had a good day. Me: Half way through Volume 9 the last of the hardbound journals. Now they can get boxed and put into storage. Registered for work for the third time. Hello? Something’s missing here if I have to contact or be contacted three times about work training. G: Talked with the derm doc and finally the doc listened to what G was saying. Some small progress with Duck's itchies may have been made. G had a great day. Came home laughing and smiling. Work: Padre’s 2008 Schedule. We only have to work 77 out of 84 games this year. Wow.

I dawdle this morning. The sunshine’s cold light doesn’t entice me. By the end of the day, I hope to have all my hardbound journals scanned. Imagine, some of my memory on a disc. Oh, not my childhood memories, those journals burned with the Garrison house in 1971. All the images from our move to Ocean Beach in 1974 through the towing years in 1984 will now be on disc needing attention from Photoshop.

There I am on these fading pages raising kids, working, creating an extended family now scattered to the winds, and living life with a wonderful passion. There wasn’t much of me to start, but there were a bushel of wonderful happenings between the hangovers in the middle.

The kids came back to live with me one by one, and the pictures don’t show the struggle to raise one alcoholic child and one very opinionated child. It did take a village, and in this case the primary village members were a little unusual. Many were drunks but drunks that cared: FDT, JR, Billy, Jo, Lpaz, Dorothy, and a therapist from USCD…I wish I could find her now to thank her. The supportive old friends too: Don, Dee, Bee, Tommy, Tim, and all those artists.

Here’s FDT with Marie and Lenora in the old Purple Palace in 1975. Yes it was painted a vibrant purple. Then here the kids are in 1979 with their pop at the Grand Canyon.



Oh, growing up pictures. Mine and theirs. School pictures flutter off the page. I stuck things in with strange tapes. Party pictures, holiday pictures, prom pictures. What sad stories behind those…but we didn’t know that day. Those days.



Grandchildren pictures too. Dancing, sliding, blowing out birthday candles here and there. They grow so fast. Here in 1983 is Grampa G walking by his tow truck door with grandson Aaron expressing an opinion. Would you look at that.