I’m here, sort of late, typing – and my right index finger has a paper cut on it – because, oh, I don’t know, I guess I think AmeliaJake has to  check in.to say, Yo, I’m still here. Me. I know I posted earlier, but that was of things I came across. For some reason, I need to tell you that my pals here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse had stuff spread out over the tables. We were playing the jukebox and sipping drinks with crushed ice and reaching in a grab bag full of surprises.

We talked it over and decided we’d be posting a lot of it for the sake of family and because some of the stuff is just plain interesting – a peek back into the 20’s and 30’s and 40’s. And this was just one box. We have more. We found relatively ancient pictures of ballplayers that were cut out of the back of cereal boxes. I kid you not. We found basketball schedules and poems and birthday cards and a letter written on V-J Day.

We found the program from my dad’s graduation from college after the war. Have we got stuff! And we are loving it.

I just wanted to say that in my AmeliaJake way, and not get too caught up in just reporting and posting. For some reason, all this old stuff makes me feel my life so strongly – that it is real. It’s kind of like when my father-in-law died and a fellow wrote to tell his sons about when they played football in the early 40’s. Every now and then, out of the blue, I will remember the sentence about my father-in-law getting up after a rough and tumble play with a big smile on his face.* I can see it. It exists in how we cite someone’s signature quote and then grin: My father’s “He can’t sing like he used to” ** and my father-in-law’s “Count old Kook out.” Hmmm . . .  have I told you that story? Oh well, some time soon.

* Football story:

My best recollection of Bill Vance was in 1941;we we were at
Carthage High;Bill was a sophomore and I, a senior & on the
varsity football–Bill played guard and I, tackle. Bill
being two years younger and smaller played only parttime.
When Bill was in the game he played long side of me. When
a running play was over our side, I would say “Come on Bill.”
We opened holes many times for the running back to make a
good gain. Oftentimes when we were unscrambling from a
pile-up, Bill’s helmut (being too large) would be half
turned on his head and I could only see a big smile on his
face. Yes, Bill was “tough and scrappy” which he had to use
too many times during his life.
Yes, I am proud to have been his cousin. May his soul rest in
peace.

** My dad always punctuated any Bing Crosby song with the comment, “He can’t sing like he used to.”