After my last post last night, it occurred to me, we who are not pleased with having to choose between any of the remaining candidates of both parties, there should be another vote choice in November’s presidential ballot.

There should be an option for rejecting all of the candidates. If the plurality of votes are in this block, then the political machines would have to start over and select someone else.

That way, my vote, and i suppose a number of others, would count.

Because right now, i cannot vote for any of the six still in the running.

My friend, Norm O’Neal, a shipmate on my first ship, the USS Hawkins (DD-873) sent the below in an email tonight, which i read after we got home from a birthday dinner for Ben Regeis.

Ben, the father of Nancy Toennies, turned 96 Friday. He is a remarkable man from Lithuania, who was a quarterback for UCLA, played pro football, and has remarkable tales to tell from Worcester, Massachusetts to the South to Southern California. He is in good health.

When i read Norm’s email, i am afraid i kept thinking, “Isn’t it sad that the presidential candidates and the ranting folks who back ALL of them can’t act in the same manner as the folks in these photos. i do not have the confidence in any of the candidates on either side with their rhetoric to gain votes rather than to honestly tell us what they believe to have clue as to what the goodness shown in this collection really means.

i am afraid dear friends, both Republican and Democrat, that i will not vote in the presidential election. The candidates are that bad.

i just wish the ballot had a choice for protesting against the choices. i suspect the protest vote would carry the day.

But for now, thanks once again, Norm. This, even with a few repeats is what the world needs now.

In view of our litigious ways, i have decided we need to sue all of the mothers of the world.

After all, they are the ones who give birth to children. And eventually, all of the children die. Therefore, the mothers are the ones who cause us death: totally responsible for our dying.

Of course, another class action should follow. Men do have a hand in this. Next suit, please.

This was almost finished last night, but my interior clock is about as screwed up as it could get. i knew this writing would be close to gibberish if i posted last night. Re-reading this morning, i was close to correct. i am, as Mother Goose would honk, “home again, home again, jiggety jig.”

Sister, aka Martha Duff: She is doing well.

Critical point is Tuesday when she and Todd go to see her surgeon. If all goes well, the nasty vacuum pump will be removed, and she will have more freedom. She is gaining strength; her wounds are healing; and she is getting better on a continuing basis. Perhaps the most reassuring aspect is that she is absolutely, completely aware of where she is and what she needs to do to get to the next phase. Knowing her, i rest easy knowing she will will it to happen. After all, she is kin to her mother and father.

Me? Well, it’s been one hell of a day. Martha and i watched a replay of the UK-Vandy game together after i got home from a UTC Mocs basketball win, hosted by Todd and in company with Bill Trumpeter and Pat Taintor. Martha enjoyed watching with me while she knew the outcome and i didn’t. This is even more remarkable because she is not a big Vandy fan.

i hit the rack around 10:30. Arose at 3:00 to catch a shuttle to Nashville. After almost three hours in the airport, caught a five-hour flight to San Diego. The rest is a blur. Oh yes, elapse time from start to journey finish: twelve hours. As i partook of  wine and ceviche on the patio looking over San Diego Bay at Coasterra on Harbor Island, i looked upon my love sitting next to me. Maureen is my soul, my soul mate, and these past two weeks gave me extra understanding of exactly how wonderful and beautiful she is. The return was sort of perfect. There was Maureen; there was the city, which is now my home away from my old home; there was Maureen; and if you look at the photo of Maureen, you can see the USS Carl Vinson (CVN 70) moored at North Island in the background. Pretty damn good homecoming.

i have many things to do. There is a backlog, and there is this golf thing, like a round with my curmudgeons at Coronado tomorrow.

All of it will seem easy, even joyous, as i think about how my sister is on her road to recovery.

Thursday night, i awoke in the middle of the night, as old men do, to go to the bathroom. The guest bedroom where i stayed is at the head of the stairway to the second floor. Leaving the room, i looked down the stairs into the piano room where we had set up the hospital bed, Martha’s sleep place until she can climb the stairs. Sometime in the middle 1950’s, Mother had a portrait photograph taken of Martha in a yellow chiffon gown. If i remember correctly, she wore the gown for her first piano recital. It is a wonderful portrait and Martha is  perfectly beautiful. When i looked down at the hospital bed with Martha’s head resting on a pillow, i saw that beautiful little girl again.

Somehow, i knew things were going to be okay, and it really was time for me to go home.

i had promised i was going to see my nephew’s identical 5-month old twin boys before i left Signal Mountain. i saw their four-year old sister Allie on her birthday at Happy’s house.

This afternoon, i drove out in the glorious winter sunshine past the town of Signal Mountain to Walden, a town on the eastern border of Signal Mountain on what i call the back way down down the mountain to Dunlap. Tommy and Abby Duff have a small farm on Corral Road in a mix of old farmland and new development. i wove around the road and, of course, passed their house, requiring a u-turn.

Tommy opened the door and ushered me in to meet Allie, who hugged my knees until i hugged her back. I also gave their older daughter Olivia a hug. Then i looked down on the floor to look intently at Max and Culley Duff, my grand nephews, or whatever the correct term is for the grandsons of my sister.

Max and Culley were beautiful infants when we were here for Christmas. But now, they are enchanters, personalities developing, sitting up, getting ready to stand up, then walk, then rule the world. Now, they are content to hold each other’s hand, which in itself could capture your heart.

i held Max for a while. He laughed and pulled at my mustache. Then Tommy brought over Culley, and i had one on each knee. Tommy took photos. In most, Allie is at my side.

And here they are: