On Saturday, it will be the 26th anniversary of my father's death.
And Tuesday will be the 48th anniversary of my birth.
I no longer mourn the two former; after all, for Elvis fandom this is "Elvis Week," a vast celebration of his life and his music, culminating in the candlelight vigil at Graceland tonight -- I've never attended, but would love to someday. After all, "Elvis was a model citizen." /Lilo
I've come to terms with Dad's death. It took a long time for me to be able to see him without the rosy daddy's-girl glasses I always viewed him with. Not perfect, my Dad. And confessed to my mother that he was probably a horrible father. In many ways I'm rather glad he passed away when he did because it's highly likely that he would be one of those people I really, really dislike these days, because he sure was then -- although Nixon Republicans are practically tree-hugging commie leftists today.
But then always rolls around my birthday, and these days it's always a fun thing, no matter what we do or even if we do ANYTHING. I am enjoying growing up, and even growing "old." I don't feel old, even when I'm surrounded by these young kids who don't know anything.
I also did not fly into a rage at a woman who actually said, "I don't like either candidate, so I'm just not going to vote." AARRRGGGHHH!!! Women who don't vote, who don't exercise that right that we fought SO HARD FOR, just make me crazy with rage. I don't care if you write in "Homer Simpson," VOTE.
It's distinctly possible Homer could be an improvement.