I did some wash yesterday and discovered two more pennies. So, here’s another two cents worth of my thoughts and questions on a subject that interests me…

Happy Independence Day. I have two cents worth of thoughts and I’m going to take advantage of my first amendment right to free speech and give them to you.

Just bought a copy of Barbara Tuckman’s book, the Guns of August. I dropped off some clothes at St. Vincent DePaul in Fredericksburg. Bought the book for a dollar while I was in the store.

I have to confess. My daughter and her husband leaving Texas with their family is causing me a bit of distress.

My little pink flower got me thinking the other day. Not always a good thing but sometimes something comes of it. So, let’s try this. It’s about sharing.

At the base of the big crape myrtle is a flower bed that once was full. That was when the tree was tiny. There was turks caps, salvia greggi, and rock roses. They were abundant. Then the tree grew large.

I went to a memorial service yesterday for a man I barely knew. We had a casual relationship; it was centered around a musician we favored.

I believe summer is finally beginning. It is warm this morning. And there’s nary a breeze. I like my morning’s cool.

I was drugged and probed yesterday. They found nothing which is good. It was an endoscopy the one year follow up to my last one.

We’ve had a wet spring and early summer. Everything that likes water is getting water. I’m cautiously optimistic we might make it to fall without losing anything.

I love summer. I got home yesterday following lunch and an afternoon of music with time to mow. So, I did. I changed into my work clothes and fired up the zero turn mower.

It’s the days of the crape myrtles. They’re all in bloom. Pink petals litter the drive. Everywhere you look there are flowers. White by the back door. Pink in the back garden. Pink in the front, white in the front, purple, too.

Made music with friends yesterday. The best way to make music. And there were friends there to listen, too. And two of my cousins showed up, and that was special.

It’s raining. And I was going to say outside, but where else would it be raining except outside. So, why mention it.

Willie Mays. He helped destroy my dreams in the 1954 World Series when he ran down that drive by Vic Wertz in the Polo Grounds. Cleveland was my team.

A few thoughts on things my parents gave me and what I’ve done with them.

Yesterday was Father’s Day. My oldest son called. My youngest son popped in with best wishes. And my daughter and her two arrived on the way to summer camp with a pair of socks for me declaring me a cool ass grandpa.

Yesterday I talked about the foundational women in my life, but there were others who had a large impact as well.

Today, as we continue my voyage of discovery, I look back into my life and memories and talk about the women in my early life. Three in particular hold places of honor. My mother, my grandmother and her mother. The foundation.

I’m back talking about my family. More history. Let’s chat about my youngest brother. He’s gone. Died in 2005. He was gay. This month is LBGT pride month, and I think about him a lot, but always during this month.