i like to laugh at the world and myself without restrictions. Over the years, i’ve found cartoonists whom i really enjoyed and collected some of my favorites. So if my grandson Sam ever wants to know what kind of sense of humor i have/had, i’m going to post them here on a random basis.

Today, i found a “Shoe” comic from at least thirty, if not forty years ago i saved. It is mounted on the wall of my “workshop” in the garage alongside a number of other favorites. The two young birds, nephews of Shoe if i remember correctly, are sitting at school desks reading test papers apparently.

One asks, “What is black and white and red all over and goes 300 miles per hour?”

The other replies, “A skunk in a blender.”

i still find it funny.

i continue to try to put some order in this mess in order to leave behind no task of having to decide what to keep, what not to keep, and who should keep what i leave behind. Make sense?  Don’t know. Just driven to try. But it is one heck of a job.

This weekend, i found this photo in my cousin Nancy Schwarze’s envelope she sent me a couple of years ago.

i didn’t recognize the woman. Shouldn’t have. i never knew her. Know where she’s buried though. She is amongst the Prichard’s in the Wilson County Memorial Gardens to the east of the original mausoleum in a section that keeps my grandparents on my father’s side and other relatives from both sides. She has a modest sized monument adjacent to the headstones of my surrogate grandfather, “Papa” Wynne Prichard, and his wife, Aunt Corrine. Daisy and “Papa” were brother and sister.

She was a spinster. She left the family lands around Hickory Ridge, i’m guessing in the early 1900’s for a job. i do not know what that job was, but apparently she did all right. She became a favorite of my mother, her siblings, and apparently the daughters of the other Nashville family, Uncle Gus and Aunt Bessie Lancaster, the latter of which was the sister of my grandmother.

Aunt Daisy was a favorite because when those children would visit her in Nashville (at least a day’s trip back in those days), she would shower them with new clothes and new shoes. i remember my mother waxing eloquent about the shoes and the dresses Aunt Daisy bestowed upon her.

Aunt Daisy, like many others is only a memory once removed for me, and will be not much more than a postscript in genealogy research of the next generation of Wynne’s and Prichard’s.

i looked at her picture and had a sense of loss. i wish i had known her. She died in 1930. i’m guessing she was in her fifties. i wish i had some way to learn of her story. There is a kindness in her smile. She shows signs of a younger beauty. i wonder why she never married. There are too many gone with the passage of time with no story left behind.

So i’m posting her picture here. And when i get back home, i will attend to her modest monument in the cemetery along with those relatives i knew and too many i didn’t know.

It is a slight effort on my part to honor our past and the folks who made that past whom we will never know.

There are moments that just flat stick in my mind as wonderful. Last night, i revisited one.

We were on the cusp of sunset, which comes a bit early in our home but lasts almost fifteen minutes more if i climb to the top of the hill to watch the orb settle beyond the Pacific and give me hope of witnessing another green flash. i’ve seen about four from my perch over the years.

But not last night. i rested, luxuriating almost in my office as Maureen put together yet another gourmet meal).

i played early golf at Miramar with my long time Navy buddies at Miramar, a very respectable and, for old guys, long course where Top Gun used to be, but BRACC gave it to the Marines and Top Gun moved to Fallon, Nevada (Pity: i’m pretty sure the Navy wouldn’t have allowed Denny’s to occupy the new clubhouse after one of my favorite 19th holes of all time burnt down years ago) — oh lord, i just thought of about ten stories around my father-in-law, Ray Boggs and his escapades with our group: saved for later. Regardless it was a pleasant Southwestern corner weather day, ’bout perfect in spite of my sporadic pretty good and damn awful golf.

Even with a beer afterwards, i got home before noon. The ladies were out doing good deeds. i had my standard (when those two women aren’t here) crackers and cheese, and took a nap. A long nap. Actually completed a couple of tasks, took a deep soak epsom salts bath and retreated to this home office where i sit now trying to catch up on emails and Facebook, organize the rest of my day, tomorrow, and my life, and the world in general although i don’t think the latter is going to take…so to hell with that one.

And up on Facebook popped a memory from five years ago. It was a wonderful trip concocted by Steve and Maria Frailey. They asked us to join them for a day and overnight trip to north of Warner Springs proper, a small country community almost to Riverside County in the country. And i’m talking country like nothing of the country were i grew up. We met the Frailey’s at our “glamping spot,” two tents, the interior of each looking like something out of a luxury travel bed and breakfast photo. We lunched at the County Line BBQ Cafe, a ramshackle, rambling, redwood crazy place with incredible barbecue. From there we went to a new winery. The wine was too young and the setting, though nice was a bit too fancy for me. Then we spent a goodly time on the patio on top of a mountain at the Hawk Watch Winery where we would go into a barn filled with wine casks and a huge long haired cat. Good Wine too, real good wine.

From there, we drove up the gravel road to Sierra Roble Winery, another top of the mountain place again with great wines.

To end the afternoon, we drove back to the “glamping tents” between the vineyards and the house and tasting room for the Shadow Mountain Winery, a little slice of heaven. Steve and Maria introduced us to Pamela McGreary, the wife and tasting room guru who is also an artist. They provide the San Diego Zoo their wine and Pamela creates the labels, both for the zoo and their wines. She is a wonderful artist and a superb hostess.

At the end of the day, we gathered our prepped ingredients from the cars and walked to the covered patio. Steve pulled out his little made-for-boat propane stove. We dined with superb food and a bottle of the wine we had purchased that afternoon. The country air was cool that night, perfect for sleeping.

The next morning, the McGeary’s had set out a continental breakfast on the patio. As we were winding down with another cup of coffee, Alexander, the husband and co-owner wandered by and asked us about our stay. Then, without  provocation, he offered to give us a tour of the vineyards and the production process. The man is flat amazing. He pointed out the wines in the different sections of the vineyards, including “Old Gus,” the original section for the vineyards from the 1930’s, and a section where Alexander used the different styles of staking and and hanging the wines. He provides lessons for fledgling vinters and other students and dedicated this section to illustrate the various methods.

Alexander was so good, this guy actually understood the intricacies of the cultivation of the grapes. We concluded with a trip around the processing plant.

It  was one of those short trips that fall into the category of perfect.

And of course, there was one of Steve’s classic photos. Adjacent to the “Old Gus” vineyard was an old bathtub. Steve coaxed Maureen into the photo shoot because i had already laughed and sat in the tub. Maureen sat on my lap. It was only later when my cousin, Nancy Schwarze from Florida told her about the connection with the viagra commercial.

i’m still laughing.

Thanks, Steve.