Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do seem to recall that my two-headed Push-Me-Pull-You talking stuffed animal toy, part of Dr. Doolittle's menagerie, was among the items that disappeared from my closet during the time that Antonia was our maid. Toña was a surly mean-spirited person with a sullen aspect. It will be remembered that my mother fired the maid Toña after she found in the maid's room a suitcase stuffed full of stolen things that she was preparing to leave with. It was not because we were particularly attached to such inanimate objects that the maid was fired. It was because we had learned by sad experience that Antonia "Toña" could not be trusted to be set loose in our house while we were not at home. So not to be mean or anything like that but your campaign to gain sympathy for Antonia will ultimately accomplish not much other than kill me in the process, as if a maid deserves to replace a daughter. I cannot possibly imagine what happened to Antonia after that, whether she found another job or whatever, but I imagine that perhaps her life was difficult  because we certainly could not be counted on to give her a good reference. It's not like I am angry with her still but these matters are out of my control. Not to be mean or anything, but your efforts to reduce me to the level of Antonia will ultimately not succeed. Dreary horrid Antonia was only the hired help so we are not required to listen to her verbal darts all of the time. We can disregard and dispose of Antonia. Obviously we cannot say the same thing about our stupid family members.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, there really ought to be some nice and polite way for me to explain that I am actually not interested in socializing with those prison trash whiners Jack and Lisa. There ought to be some nice and polite way for me to explain to Max that his butt was kicked to the curb at least as far as I am concerned because although Max barks very loudly, he has no legal documentation to back that up. There ought to be some nice and polite way for me to explain that I have no knowledge and no personal connection whatever to Mexico, although I did live there for one year. Those Mexicans third graders were sort of mean to me when they suddenly attacked this little white girl without warning for no particular reason, just that I am white. I don't remember much. Mexico is a scary place. I never made any promises and I never will. It all depends.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, the tenant farmer will tell us when — the scheduled day and hour — when it will be most appropriate for the gas and oil inspectors to conduct their occasional test of the land's underground mineral prospects. However, it is not for the tenant farmer to refuse the test. You will allow access for the test. The law allows for access to the land, giving the tenant farmer some discretion in the scheduling of the test so as not to interfere with the harvesting of the crops or whatever it is that farmers are doing there, whether or not they actually own it or are only renting. If you are renting, the property owner may play some role in making the arrangements with you. I really don't have a very clear picture of that or any direct connection to it. I am not connected to the farmer so I really wouldn't know. Neither am I the one who has commissioned the testing, nor am I the rights holder who would be paid a lease fee by the gas and oil people. So all of this commotion is just a huge and meaningless distraction to me. So if some political busybodies are poking their noses into your personal life and ransacking your house that wouldn't be us. That is all I can say about that. I cannot promise you that there are not political busybodies out there doing that but I doubt that I would be able to help you with that any time soon. I have no control in these matters. It's just the system.

Which Reminds Me

I must say that I had no role whatsoever in the disappearance of Lisa but I cannot be sorry that she is gone, or at least that she is not here. Do you really think that I am so stupid as to not realize that Lisa is trashing me behind my back all over the place? I know what the Bible says about how I should do good to those who persecute me, and Lisa certainly does quality as a persecutor of me, so I am obligated by Christian duty not to say anything publicly about that Lisa and her wicked ways. And yet I cannot help but overhear these verbal darts launched at me by Lisa. It is just a constant rain of verbal darts from Lisa and her people and yet as a Christian I am just supposed to smile and pretend that everything is just Okie-dokie. As if. Ha!

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely recall that that in college there was a cheerleader named Grace, one of those Asian people who think that everyone should look uniformly brown and black or risk being ridiculed as a ludicrously multi-colored blue-eyed white person. Grace was from Hawaii, a boring state of no interest to me, a place that I have never visited. Maybe I did make the mistake of saying something to Grace about Hawaii. Whatever. So much water under the bridge. Anyway, personally, I am not against vacationing in Hawaii if that is what you where you want to go. Judging from photos, I am sure that there is much tropical vegetation there to provide beautiful tropical scenery. Nevertheless, there are 49 other states in the United States of equal importance, all deserving of my equal attention for other reasons and Hawaii is a late-coming dependent of the Union, not a key foundation stone of it. Hawaii might be a beautiful place to live even for a few years, as some of my relatives did, but I have never been there so I really wouldn't know anything about that, nor would I care much about learning more about that insignificant state when 49 other states are so much more important to me. I really don't care that much about Hawaii. I suppose that if someone offered me a job there I would not be averse to living there for a while, but I doubt that I would stay there permanently. Heaven is my home, I'm just passing through, as the song says.

Which Reminds Me

I think it might have been Anna, a Latina and former employee at Vida Publishers who briefly attended the CLC church for a short time, who once sang at CLC, "God Will Make A Way." She left this area and moved to Texas where she was attending T.D. Jake's church there the last I heard. I haven't heard anything else about Anna since she moved away to Texas. Sometimes God makes a way for people to move to Dallas, which seemed to work for Anna, while Dallas might be a place of no interest to others such as myself. I really wouldn't know anyone there. Dallas sounds to me like just another lonely miserable place that I could go but probably never will.

Which Reminds Me

Anyway, I could not care less what that mental retard Byron does with his pathetic life. He was nothing but a complete stranger to me, and anyway North Carolina is not a state of interest that I should let those cloghoppers throw me around, as if I ever had any connection there, which I obviously never did.

Speaking of poetry, I think that if I did have a husband I might want my children to resemble him at least in part. But anyway, Byron was never my husband that he should have any rightful claim to negate or deny this point in any respect. He was only a stupid cheater who never had any rightful claim on me, nor will his writings ever gain any literary prizes with such a stupid attitude so prominently on display.

Which Reminds Me

I find it utterly ridiculous that the Cox family is here screaming at me because it so happens that their surname is mentioned in some obscure poem written by Saint Columba, the founder of I Collum Kill, which appears in some obscure Irish/Scottish history book that no one ever heard of. This provides further evidence that Byron in particular, is a mentally retarded idiot undeserving of serious consideration. So just because you hail from the town of Lockwood, New York, that does not mean that we care about your silly agenda composed mainly of literary ruins. Nothing you say makes any sense whatsoever.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely recall the existence of Rick Snell, a dull and boring person of no interest, remembered mainly for being a forerunner or prototype for the "Dumb and Dumber" characters of the infamous movie. I have not seen Rick Snell since I left there after 12th grade, except for that one time that the music group visited here for a couple of days maybe a couple of years later, and I actually could not care less if I ever see him or them again. I heard that he married some Latin girl there of whom I have no memory. You cannot spend all of your time treating me as if your ugly white stepsister and then expect to care later about renewing acquaintance with such annoying people. I do recall that Rick's stepmother was a rather shrill Latin dog of no intelligence. It was a bit awkward for us to have the snarky Snell family hanging around there pretending to be connected to us. They really were not so much our friends as an uncomfortable nuisance.

Which Reminds Me

It was on the first or nearly the first day of high school, in ninth grade, in study hall downstairs, that the teacher was calling roll and when he called out name he said that my name sounded sexy. He meant to be friendly but I will admit that I was so nervous and shocked that a complete stranger would say something like that in such a familiar way that when I answered "present" or "here" there was a distinct chill in my voice, perhaps to discourage future such comments, and I think that I did succeed in discouraging that, even though the teacher did seem a bit shocked at my cold response. Someone in the study hall noticed that and continues to remind me of that, which gets very annoying because, I mean, really, who is not nervous on the first day of high school? Give me a break. Which teacher was that anyway? I really don't remember him. He looked like Bernie Monserrat, but I don't remember that name. Was he substituting that day or our regular teacher? It is very fuzzy in mind. Anyway, you are too exaggerated. I was just nervous. Give me a break. You are too CRUEL.

Which Reminds Me

Oh, ha ha ha! Am I hearing this right? So you think that wearing blue jeans daily as your self-appointed school uniform qualifies you as a police authority on all subject matters of potential conflict even though your shade of blue more closely resembles that of a coal miner or blue-collar worker's gear than any sort of authority figure, plus you have no badge, no whistle, no hat. Just because Lance might have been wearing blue jeans that day, having that hippie-flower child look of his, even though he was not holding his guitar at the moment, that did not make him an authority on religious matters. Obviously I have no idea who came up with that scheme. I would only be guessing that maybe you were not a Christian, in which case your personal bias would tend to favor Lance's presentation, even while persons of the devout Christian variety would strongly disagree with Lance as well as you on this point. When we once visited my cousin's junior high school in California we were shocked to see almost everyone wearing the blue jeans uniform, so just wearing blue jeans nothing special. Blue jeans are comfortable for casual days once you get used to that, I will admit. Even so, I just think that you are obfuscating the point because you don't wish to be confronted with religious arguments on points that make you personally uncomfortable. Yes, it is a complicated subject and I do think that Miss Marken's ninth grade honors English class is perhaps not the appropriate place for personal determinations of this nature. But anyway there is such a thing as freedom of speech and it was vinteresting to hear Lance's peculiar discussion, even though I might not agree with him in terms of religious belief. Anyway, you can't really control what people are going to say in their English oral reports and also the various ways that people might react to that.

Which Reminds Me

To make matters even more confusing, we have this catty Episcopalian Heather, another high school classmate of U.S. representation, pretending to be a Christian and yet actually agreeing, quite loudly in fact, with Lance in contradiction to the actual teachings of Christianity in regards to the Virgin birth of Christ. So that unfortunately tended to confirm the racist brown groupies in their deluded belief that only they are the true Christians in this picture, in contrast with the clueless white people whom they assumed to be mostly Episcopalians. To further confuse the picture, we have the Episcopalians claiming that only they can represent the U.S. in official matters, in contrast to the U.K., an officially Christian country where official representatives can be presumed to be indoctrinated in the Anglican doctrines of Christianity to some degree, unlike the U.S. where no doctrinal standard applies anyway, while if you actually do have some faith you may be judged a bit too simple-minded to handle the complications of higher office. So that could be a useful political wrench for someone's purpose of whatever intention. I am just saying what I heard.

Which Reminds Me

How many times do I have to explain that it was in Miss Marken's 9th grade English honors class that Lance, in his report on the bull of Greek mythology, digressed to the subject of the Virgin birth, which he clearly disbelieves, and said so in many words of a shocking nature, making some points that obviously did not endear him to Christians of any faith? Obviously I do not appreciate some brown Catholics trying to make that a racial question by dumping me into the same garbage bin as Lance and his gang of faithless white American groupies just because I happen to also be a white U.S. citizen high school classmate as opposed to a Latin Catholic high school classmate. Did I ever hang out with Lance's groupies? No. Even though Lance seemed very cool in a high school way, he was too wicked to be taken seriously at that time. And are there not also some faithless Catholics out there blending into the brown wallpaper? Possibly. Anyway, I do not recall myself ever discussing this point with Sylvia or Kathy or other high school classmate, that she would have anything intelligent to say by way of explaining this point on my behalf. You cannot just jump to such conclusions without giving me a chance to explain what I actually thought about Lance. I might feel more sorry for those wicked brown groupies such as Kathy and Joanne if they weren't such obvious cheaters.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, all of this hubbub does make me wonder what part of GET LOST does the Faulkner tribe of Mississippi not understand? I could not care less about those Dust Bowl novels that really have no bearing on the reality of my life. I never did get around to reading that "Grapes of Wrath" book and I doubt that I ever will. Winning a Nobel Prize is not something that you can ever plan on. Such rewards can only happen accidentally after having done something worthwhile with your life. Didn't Falkner get a "D" in English and yet won a Nobel Prize because his books captured something of the spirit of that time, not because there were any facts involved? Anyway, not to worry. The canneries of the California coastline are still there humming along just fine without me around to gum up the works. The cannery novels have all been written and there is nothing more of interest to be said about that. Perhaps someday the journalists will get around to exposing how the Faulkners sold their literary legacy to gain Viking baubles. Anyway, whatever. None of that is my problem.

Which Reminds Me

And am I some sort of junkyard to be harvested by the filthy rich Faulkner tribe? Just because Faulkner's novel happens to feature a fictional character named "Uncle John," that does not mean there ever was any resemblance to reality in that novel, never mind about the Nobel Prize. Certainly there is no Prize-winning literature with the Harris name on it to justify her loudly clamorous crowing on this point. Some people are too busy flapping their own mouths to pause long enough for the reflection necessary for the writing of books. Anyway, there is a big wall between fiction and non-fiction that cannot be crossed over by just any clueless busybody motormouth.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, the controversial subject of artificial children was also discussed in the dorms at SCC with similar results. I cannot imagine myself ever doing that but the option does exist, a temptation for those wealthy women who demand children at all costs.

Which Reminds Me

I remember when I was living in California at one time I was rooming in the 1980s, one of my roommates was a person named Anne, and this Anne, who was from Huntington Beach, I can't remember her last name at the moment, who I remember her saying that if she did not get married she might take matters into her own hands and get herself a child by artificial means. I don't know happened to Anne later, whether she did that or not, but that was a strange and rather shocking thought to my mind. I could not imagine myself ever doing that but then again, well, come to think of it, didn't the Virgin Mary submit to the will of God so that the child Jesus would not be born of the will of man but of the will of God. It is hard for us humans to understand the full significance of the virgin birth, and yet there would no Christmas without the virgin birth of Jesus. In all of these two thousand years since that time, the virgin birth has remained a most sacred mystery. It has only been in the last 20 or 30 years that suddenly hundreds, maybe thousands of children all over the world have been born to anonymous sperm donors, possibly even some to virgin mothers. Who knows? This is because of recent advances in scientific research have made the practice of artificial insemination possible and affordable to wealthy persons wanting children. Who am I to say what those people should or should not have done? Why are you asking me? Who am I to say how society should manage this new phenomenon? Just because Anne made this comment to me, that does not mean that I would know how to properly comment on such a controversial subject, so easily twisted into some other thing I don't recognize. I had not given that much thought because, really, it would not be practical for me, not being so financially independent as to experience that firsthand by taking on a dependent. But it certainly is food for thought, this new phenomenon that most certainly could affect society in ways that we perhaps cannot fully imagine at this time.

Which Reminds Me

I wouldn't think of saying anything else, but since I can't stop the rain, I might as well note the peculiar notions of the Saword family, who seem to imagine themselves as the only persons able to Say (a) Word on any subject. That whiny little crybaby, whose name was Jackie, was at least adopted by them so perhaps she imagines she has an excuse for trying our nerves with similar shrill screeches. But I am only a schoolmate of theirs so I do not have to take them home with me and listen to them all of the time. I left the SayWords back there in the schoolyard where I remember them last and see no reason to change this orderly scheme of things, not after all of that Canadian chaos. How ridiculous. If Dawn and company cannot forgive my one or two little outbursts, and in fact blew themselves up into a colossal Anglo-Saxon nuisance, hiding themselves behind a veil of stupid representation, there would be no reason for me to dignify their ridiculous accusations with anything resembling these bizarre imaginings propounded by them. That was just not the way I remember things. Not even close. Sorry.

Which Reminds Me

Carol has  lot of nerve accusing me of something. Who knows what other games she was playing behind my back. Should I feel guilty that her head is probably full of racy French literature that I wouldn't know anything about? There she is pretending to represent higher education, and the only spokespeople presuming to represent her are a bunch of burned out rock stars whose music careers are definitely on the downhill side of everything, rock stars who had their day and were left behind in the scenery to eat our dust, rock stars partly made of Guatemalan corn tortillas I presume. Ha ha ha! So maybe those rock stars have lots of money but they only spend it on themselves. It is not like they would ever do us any favors which is why I would brush them off as not to be taken too seriously. There is more to life than high school.

Which Reminds Me

It certainly was not my idea to play spin the bottle. I never would have thought of that but as I was visiting at Carol's house and Carol had a bunch of people from the neighborhood in her front yard and Carol decided that we should play this game, it would seem sort of awkward not to play along to some degree. I don't remember anyone taking their clothes off. Maybe one guy took off his belt.  Even so, I did not like being put in that position of feeling myself obligated to play along with this game of which my parents would really not approve if they had known. Carol is not very picky about who her friends might be and what games she wants to play. I would caution against getting too involved with the Sancho Panza family as they are sort of weird and two-faced.

Which Reminds Me

And how is it that complete strangers are getting in my face and commenting on personal subjects such as how I spend my money and so forth? Who are you to question me in any way? You are nothing in my opinion, just a stupid busybody who happens to have heard some bit of gossip from some ignoramus and twisted everything around into some weird configuration not reflective of any reality of which I am even vaguely aware. You sell me out a redhead Yankee slave of these mean and nasty U.K. Anglo-Saxon dogs to gratify your Chicano La Raza voter base and then you question why there is no profit involved for the U.S. What is wrong with you stupid people anyway? I refuse to entangle myself in these ridiculous arguments of no interest to me. Get off my back!

Which Reminds Me

Yes, maybe I should feel sorry for this delinquent trash Dr. Cruz, but whether she ought to submit her butt to Teen Challenge control is beyond the scope of my commentary. I cannot imagine why anyone would be even thinking about that but since you are begging all these questions, I have to imagine that some demonically controlled people might see it that way.

Which Reminds Me

I might be a bit cranky but I don't think that I ever attacked an officer. I will not admit that much guilt. I might be guilty of some things but not everything. I don't appreciate often find myself being "baited" when obviously I sort of know that is a play on words, our distant cousins' surname being Bates. So obviously I always find it a very bad joke, in very poor taste, whenever I find myself "baited."

Anyway, am I some sort of goddess that I should sacrifice my life and personal happiness to cover up the wickedness of a shrill hag named Stephanie? No, the sacrifice of me was not necessary. God forgives her anyway so why should I be involved in any way? And anyway, I find it unbelievably weird that Edmundo would name his own daughter after that mean and nasty Anglo-Saxon U.K. dog. But then again maybe I am confused. Maybe he had some other Stephanie in mind. I really wouldn't know.

And anyway, didn't that Connie Sol have quite the rotten attitude? I really don't like them that much but they are my high school classmates so I must be polite anyway. I really don't care what they do. Need I explain the misery of high school?

And why all this nonsense about TWA vs. Panam? Am I a stewardess that I should serve you dinner? I really don't like to be distracted this way. It gives them too much control and you are helping them too much. It gives the mistaken impression that they are always right when actually they are only distracting attention from their own mistakes. I think they should learn to stop bothering me and get their own lives underway.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, these La Raza people seem to be very credulous in the notion that Stephanie is somehow connected to British royalty just because she is from the U.K. Ha ha ha! I don't actually recall anyone ever saying that. I do vaguely recall Stephanie yapping about how she spends her summers in Scotland where she chafes at the strictures imposed by her arrogant snooty relatives there. She prefers being in America where people are not so strict. So that is about all that I would be able to remember about that. But just because Stephanie was yapping in that politically angling way of hers, that did not mean that I was so credulous as to believe that America has no rules. That was just Stephanie yapping. Also, was there some reason to be impressed because Stephanie has proven that the Anglo-Saxon race has its not-so-bright lower-tier low-class citizens just like every other race? So?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I wasn't going to say anything, but it is a bit awkward to see California district overrun by these Chicano warheads. I do not recall Rich being popular during college. Who ever voted for him? Wasn't he a part of that fringe Chicano nuisance, those surly and sullen La Raza people who are always so full of themselves and really not much else? And wasn't Ronald his evil twin brother? I do not recall much in the way of specific details on the creepy Rich & Ron Chicano Warhead Show, only some vague impressions. So it is bit awkward to think that Rich would ever ask me to explain "them." Was I ever invited to their private parties, that I would have a wealth of information to provide on this subject? No, obviously not. My mind just goes blank on this subject. Really, I maybe don't like them very much, but also I don't necessarily see going Episcopalian as a real solution to this problem. That might be someone else but it wouldn't be me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is always so amazing to people how these bubbly socialite blondes go around chatting with every Tom, Dick and Harry who happens to cross their path and with no ill consequences. Everyone just thinks that she is so nice and friendly and it makes her so popular with everyone because she said hi to some man who just happened to be walking nearby there even if a person of no interest otherwise, just because she is so friendly, and isn't that what everyone is supposed to do if you follow her example? We are told to be more friendly and smile and talk to people. So why was it that when I said something to Rick Morris in the dorm lobby he behaved as if he were having a heart attack. Didn't I know that he does not speak to females who are not his girlfriend? Oh, well, whatever. I had always thought of him as a pompous idiot, and if he is going to react that way, well, even more so.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I suppose that it is a bit awkward for me, these vicious nasty twins pretending to be my high school classmates. With friends like that, I certainly would have no need of enemies. They do a great job of ruining everything without any help from me. What would these pagans know about Christian love and friendship? Nothing, obviously. It's not like I would have a chance to tell them anything, the way they have everything rigged in their favor behind my back. They already think they know everything there is to know about everything and my existence will not be needed. So why should I exert myself to contribute to my own misery?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, that was so mean what we three girls did to that poor beggar, how we concocted a mixture of vinegar and cooking oil and other things not drinkable and put it all in a bottle and had the maid give it to the beggar standing on the corner. What were we thinking? Was that supposed to be funny? I really don't remember how that happened. And the beggar was not happy with the bitter taste of our gift, needless to say. He could never get past the front door of our house and yet we played such a mean trick on him. Other beggars would at least get a banana or other piece of food if they came to our front door but that beggar only got a rude surprise, and he wasn't even knocking on the front door. Well, truth be told, he really should get a job and not stand around on street corners in ragged clothing waiting for handouts. He should manage more wisely whatever centavos he can get and not spend it all on booze, stumbling and swaggering around drunk as a hoot owl, which obviously is how these guys end up penniless and walking from house to house chanting with that plaintive tone, "Una limosna por el amor de Dios," as we all had heard. But, well, even so, that did not justify our mean trick. Two wrongs don't make a right, needless to say. So, anyway, I have confessed my sins to Jesus and He forgives me even if you don't, and Jesus is all that matters in the long run. "No man comes to the Father but by me," as Jesus says.

Which Reminds Me

So someone out there perhaps is asking me whether I was aware that Heidi O'Farrell from college might be related to Michael O'Farrell, an Irish whiner from high school. Whether or not it were so, I have no idea why I should care. Someone is pointing out that Heidi married a certain Mr. Baker who is descended from China missionaries, so she got her missionary kid connection by marriage whereas I got mine by natural birthright, as if, not that I had thought of it that way until someone noxious busybody points this out to me. Even so, I see no reason why I should make the effort to try to impress this Irish-Swedish caballers who only care about themselves and their own personal glory. It is not like they would ever give me any credit for anything even if I did happen to do something right in the first place. So, as I was saying, I fail to see why I should care.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do vaguely recall the existence of college classmates by the names of Heidi O'Farrell Baker and her Drama club pals, Mark Thallander and his music club pals, etc. etc. However, I cannot say that I remember very much specifically about them. To pose as an authority on the subject of such unfamiliar college classmates would be quite a stretch as, well, I really don't know them very well as we never really talked, and anyway I really would not have much to say in terms of whatever they do in the future, as I admittedly could not care less. I believe myself entitled to have my own distinct opinions on various subject matters. Nevertheless, I believe there is no law requiring that I share my thoughts and opinions with every Tom, Dick and Harry on the planet. Many things have passed through one ear and gone out the other side of one's head without necessarily requiring comment from me. Whatever. So judge not lest ye be judged yourself, as the Bible says. And who is judging who in this picture anyway?

Which Reminds Me

I thought I had already explained this enough already. There is really nothing interesting to tell. We organized a hiking expedition. I had enjoyed it so much the previous time having gone with a group from Bill Bright's Christian organization and had talked about that so I think it was my mother who organized another expedition to share the experience with others also. And we invited Max along because he was my Sunday School teacher at church and maybe I am guessing my parents thought we needed an older, more mature native guide along so that we would not be just some white children out there on the mountainside all alone. So then just to be conversational I mentioned how beautiful the mountain view was from this angle, halfway up the trail, on such a sunshiny day at least at the moment. So then later, after we got back home, John Bueno called my mother to tell her that I should be confronted about my use of obscene words, and then my mother came and told me what I had said and I remember I was standing at the door of my bedroom and saying something like, "Oops!" because I just thought I was sort of like commenting on the weather, like what a lovely day, sort of. But given that Spanish is not my first language anyway, in addition to not having any notion of these unique Chilean slang terms, well, these language mistakes happen all the time. So that was embarrassing but whatever. So hopefully these people would graciously not ask me to embarrass myself by having to explain my mistake when I was not even sure how exactly that happened anyway. My mind just goes blank on this point. Nothing but mountain views come to my mind. So it is a bit weird that Max went out and used that to pump himself up into some Dutch monstrosity. I wasn't going to say anything about him, but this whole thing has gotten so ridiculous. It just wasn't that important.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, that was lame, trying to throw me to Massachusetts, as if. I actually have no connection whatever to Cape Cod and New England generally, only read about it in the newspapers and magazines like everyone else. I cannot imagine who they were thinking of, certainly not me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it seems that dumb blonde jokes have fallen out of fashion along with those jokes about how many Pollacks it takes to screw in a light bulb. In high school, "Uncle" Roy regaled us all with a boatload of this type of humor, himself being a Pollack so for that reasons perhaps feeling himself allowed to repeat that stuff everywhere, unlike us. Even so, we were required to laugh at these jokes no matter what they were about, even if streakers were involved somehow, don't ask. So if I did express some protest when Terry called me his "red heifer," which I did, I would just be considered such a poor sport. Not to overdo the protest, I will just not be there later to figure out what that meant. Ask him yourself.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, that was a funny note that someone left in the science textbook. Maybe it was Jody Houk who left a note there and encouraged the next textbook holder to continue the tradition of writing in the textbook something about the previous holder of it. I showed it to Sammy and he also thought it was funny. A few months later Sammy asked, before he left, if I was going to do that and he seemed disappointed when I said no because I really didn't know what else to say that could be funnier than that and also when I try to be funny usually it just doesn't work for me. So I think maybe Sammy was disappointed that I did not do more of that but anyway it was only a science textbook.

Which Reminds Me

I don't remember our fellow missionaries in El Salvador, the Stewarts, ever mentioning to us their family connection to the Walker missionaries of Peru. I am not sure when or how that happened nor am I able to understand why I should care, nor why the MKs of South America got so riled up as to react by throwing me to Brazil, as if that would solve anything.

Which Reminds Me

Several years ago I received a message from Carole Hultgren (MK-Brazil) saying that she was throwing me to Brazil, to somehow replace her there, because I once briefly worked for her Dad at one job I had for two years, while she was chosen to mother and raise Nathan's children. In case Brazil did not get my message, I am not interested in getting myself thrown to Brazil. It is hard me to understand but a word here and there of Portuguese, much less why I should care about Brazil when there are nearly 200 other countries of the world, all with their unique problems and financial needs that need my attention, as if I could stretch myself that far. I have not much connection to Brazil nor any idea why I should care. I leave the job of caring for Brazil's orphans to that fat and ugly benefactress Sharon, who does speak Portuguese and is as self-centered as any Brazilian could be, as if Brazil were the center of the universe. Nor do I care in the least about Carole, who later shared Nathan's time in jail on charges of illegally obtaining drugs, not that I would have mentioned this if she weren't so eager to spit in my face.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is hard for me to understand why these nasty rich people are always screaming at me, as if there were some reason to be jealous of their rotten attitudes. I couldn't care less about those snarky rich people who are so full of themselves. Yes, I suppose it would be fun to play the role of Santa Claus, if only I had millions of dollars on hand to dole out for the funding of orphanages and clinics and so forth. In such a scenario, with money bags bulging, I am sure that I would have friends and defenders all over the place. However, when I am not even able to pay my own way independent of my parents, obviously the role of benefactress is not something that I am able to contemplate. And even if I did imagine that, it might not mean very much. It might mean, as for some people I know, such as Susie and Sammy and Sharon, that my father had died young and I was collecting life insurance payments and Social Security or pension monies to supplement any salary that I might earn. So is that lucky? Only for the beneficiaries. That actually means nothing to me. This conversation is irrelevant.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, doesn't everyone know that Stephanie was the type of dreary Brit who goes around shooting at Yankees and giving Merry Old England a bad name? I certainly would not be interested in playing the role of Patty's fairy godmother. I will defer that role to Stephanie because I see how these Mexicans play dumb and stroke British egos by looking "up" to them as fairy godmothers when actually they are just politicking, obviously. It does the flatter the ego to be sought for advice and that ploy might work for a while but it is not like these brownies will always need a British fairy godmother around to pick up after them. I am just saying that my personal identity should not be based on what these yappy little Mexican dogs are demanding at the moment, because really their ideas of white people are sometimes so incredibly weird. I never claimed to be an extraterrestrial, angel, or giantess. How ridiculous. Not to be mean or anything but I have my own life to live.

Which Reminds Me

I do not recall myself signing any deal allowing that dingbat librarian Karen Robinson to speak for me. She was so exaggerated when talking about that professor. Did I feel this way about it as others she was representing did? Well, maybe in a way I can sympathize with them, but only in a figurative sense, and don't put my name on that Karen. My experience was nothing like hers, obviously. I never signed on the dotted line. I was only trying to be sympathetic to those victimized people Karen was talking, although I really don't understand. Some people are just weird and obsessive and so sometimes you have to just avoid them so as to not let them drive you nuts.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, no matter what I do, these people will always accuse me of being just an imitator of someone else. Nothing I do matters to them. In their minds I will just always be an imitator of someone else and they are always trying to figure who I am imitating, as if no original thought could possibly cross my mind, as if they themselves were not slavish imitators of someone else also. It is so insulting to be accused that way, as if my very existence were somehow a mistake. Like I said before, it's like I don't exist. I have no idea who they are talking to but they are probably not even talking to me so, anyway, I probably should just give myself a break and not be so paranoid. After all, high school always was only a miserable place on the way to somewhere else, not a place to stay.

Which Reminds Me

I wonder why stupid Patricia Cruz is calling me? What an idiot she is. Does Patty really think that it was she who listened to Stephanie's sad story in Economics class? Patty was never even in that class so she wouldn't really know anything about it. The idiots of Louisiana ought to be ashamed of themselves for gumming up the works so stupidly and holding me hostage all this long time for no reason whatever. I never claimed to know anything about any of that, nor did I ever advertise myself an authority on the subject of Stephanie. All I can do is point you to better witnesses than myself and/or stupid Patty.

Which Reminds Me

I do remember that Edmundo was there in the church youth group but I really don't know very much about him. I do remember him muttering some bitter insurrectionist sentiments but that was not unusual for quite a few of those church people at the time. A lot of people at church were involved in some extracurricular activities that I really did not understand. Why they would need some special amnesty deal I have no idea. What did they think they were doing? I really would not want to know. I prefer to let the local authorities deal with these local matters which are of no concern to me. God forgives everybody.

Which Reminds Me

One day during high school, I think it was a Saturday, we went to a youth function at our church where they were serving atol, a not-so-delicious drink made from rice, and other local food and drink, and someone there said that earlier some guys from my high school, the Escuela Americana, had been there and were already gone by the time that we arrived. Apparently my named had somehow been mentioned by them. That made feel sort of uneasy because their names were not mentioned to me. It was not exactly clear to me who they were referring to as having visited our church from my high school. Just because some guys were my high school classmates, that did not mean that they were friends of mine or that I would approve of myself socializing with them outside of school given various factors.

Which Reminds Me

Stop wasting my time with your bad checks, you whiny losers.

Truth be told, you would be better off asking Patricia Savarria what she remembers about Stephanie's situation. I remember that Stephanie was talking to her at the table while studiously ignoring me. I am just a stupid white person after all. What would I know about the U.K. story? I see that Patty is on the move now so it will take some work to catch up with her but you can't expect me, just one person, to cough up the whole story. You have to ask around, do your homework, just like everybody else.

Which Reminds Me

One day in the ninth grade I was sitting there minding my own business in, maybe it was study hall, and I did notice that Marion and Ronit were deeply engrossed in some heavy conversation, although I could not really hear that details of that, or else I really don't remember. I only remember that Marion at some point said to Ronit that she really likes to get Ronit's advice. Marion thinks that Ronit gives very good advice. So I suppose that's nice, although I really would not be able to explain what they were talking about. I suppose that Marion remembers seeing me sitting there in the next row or two over and wonders what I overheard, if I were to remember having overheard something, and perhaps that explains how I got somehow targeted by someone, but I really don't remember anything. We never discussed that. I really wouldn't be able to explain about Marion's problems so please leave me out of it. I have no idea.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, in a million years I would never have gone partying with those guys that Stephanie was hanging around with in high school. She must be really stupid to be seen talking to them at school, much less privately at some party at somebody's house, as everybody knows that they are bad news. "Earth to Stephanie!" Those guys are sitting there spewing obscenities and Stephanie does not even seem to be bothered by that. Maybe she does not understand what those words actually mean. Fortunately I figured out early what those words mean so I already knew to ignore them, block their commentaries from my conscious mind, because I really don't care what they might say. I already somehow know that they have some mental problem or else they would not be saying such things. I could say something similar about Thomas and Raymond, who seem to be working for the U.K. Secret Service, not for the U.S., or they wouldn't be so offensive to U.S. citizens such as myself, as if I should care about the annoying Stephanie. Stephanie must be really stupid to be hanging around with that guy.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I am not a trained counselor so I would have no idea what to say about Stephanie's mental problem and also her hogging of the airwaves. Stephanie just was not that important to me. Was she there on graduation day? I really don't remember. I freely admit that I was not thinking about Stephanie at all. I have my own life to live independent of the U.K., so while I don't mean to be mean or anything, I really don't know why I should be held hostage by that. I don't even know anything about it.

Which Reminds Me

Our table was near the front of the room, near the teacher's desk. I imagine that Dr. DePaul also overheard much of Stephanie's yapping, as she was a very loud yapper, and he was probably also sitting there at his desk the whole time waiting for things to quiet down so that class can get started. Maybe he knows more about what was going on than I do. I really don't know very much. The problem with this monologuing yappers is that they never took the time to listen to anyone else's thoughts on these matters so they really have no idea what anyone thinks and really don't care. They just project their own thoughts onto quiet people who are just sitting there

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I cannot imagine why I should be in trouble because of something that Stephanie did of which I am not even aware and really don't care. It wasn't me. And also, possibly everyone in the classroom, up to 20 or so people maybe, were alarmed to hear Stephanie talking loudly about something that she did wrong. It wasn't just me that heard this. I don't know what exactly her problem was, and I am not particularly inclined to say anything out of feeling sorry for her, but certainly when you go around talking where almost an entire classroom full of people can hear you, there is no guarantee that one or another of those imaginative people will not be carrying Stephanie's story all over campus and who knows where else and possibly twisting everything around in flippant ways of which I cannot be held responsible as I am not even sure who said what or why I should care. Stephanie had a lot of personal problems as we all were made abundantly aware without even having to ask any questions. She just talks unprompted and everyone just sits there listening to her continuous monologue about being from Scotland and so forth. I don't mean to sound cold or indifferent but I did not get involved because, anyway, her head is somewhere in Scotland, or else making secret deals with the local natives to which white Americans such as myself are not party, so I really don't understand all this yapping about nothing. Why should I stick my neck out to have it chopped off by these double-dealing U.K.ers? I just don't care that much. I seem to recall that Raymond was in that class and, well, there is no telling what weird angle he might have taken on that. I really wouldn't know. I don't recall discussing that with anyone.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is a bit awkward, this selfish Stephanie pretending to be a nice person. She was always so rude, always putting on such imperious airs and studiously ignoring of me, probably because I am just a poor stupid American white person, whereas she is from the U.K., her job being to win the affections of the natives for herself alone, which is just how those people are, like everyone owes them a living but don't expect them to do us any favors. Anyway, I would only be guessing. I was never invited to those wild parties so I really would not understand why she would be so loudly expressing her regrets of something that happened there. I really don't know the specifics of that. It would seem sort of intrusive for me to ask about that when she will not even acknowledge my existence to even say hello while sitting at the same table. Maybe some other people in that class would remember and could volunteer the details. I don't mean to be rude but all this poking around behind my back gets very insulting, especially as it becomes so obvious that Stephanie has no idea who I actually am and remembers absolutely nothing about me. Just because you did something wrong, that does not make it my job to fix your problem. And also your acting wild at parties does not qualify as social "work," whereas if I do something stupid do I have to be "used" to pay for your stupider mistake? Life just isn't fair.

Which Reminds Me

Since when does my first job as a cashier at a Publix supermarket one summer matter at all in the long run? So I bagged groceries and made change and punched myself in and out at the time clock just like everybody else. At the end of the summer one of the managers said that I could come back later if I wanted to, but I never wanted to go back there. I don't even remember those people's names, much less anything about them. Perhaps sick Rachel would remember their names, but whatever. I certainly don't. Where is it written in the law that I must pay off the Bail-R-Us supermarket family before I can get on with my life? I didn't do anything wrong. Goodbye.

Which Reminds Me

Yuma was the town in which lived Geraldine Knox who was our sixth grade teacher and also our piano teacher. I once visited her for one week but I doubt that I will ever get out that way again any time soon. I imagine that she is possibly dead by now as nothing has been heard from her all these many long years. I just have no idea of whatever happened to those people. I really have no connection to Arizona. As a matter of fact, I am happy and contented to be on the "Don't call me from Arizona" list.

Which Reminds Me

It is a bit awkward for us, this unknown Wendy person suddenly appearing on the scene pretending to be related to us. We had never heard of this person Wendy, had no idea of any close family members living in Virginia, our great-great-grandfather having left there some time in the early 19th century, and ourselves not having any personal acquaintance with any of these people pretending to be somehow related to us. These Irish, especially Black Irish people always have been a long-term problem for us with their strange fictional tales, always trying to trip us up and get us in trouble with the authorities. As if I would even remember what that was all about. Don't I know that my own grandmother was not Irish at all, nor was she Scottish. My grandmother was more English but she married a McClellan, the McClellans being a Scottish clan who never did have much regard for the English, so they are saying that there was a tension between them, the Scottish and the English, not that I would know very much about that. And since when does anyone care what Wendy McClellan thinks about anything anyway? Didn't those people sell their souls to the Vikings or the Devil or something? And weren't there some other factors involved as well? So I really don't care what they think. You can't go home anymore, which is why it is nice that there is a heaven to look forward to. You can't go back.

Which Reminds Me

How many times do I have to explain that I was never drunk nor did I ever have many friends to speak of. My bottle of Welch's grape juice does not even compare to what those tipsy witches downstairs smuggled into the dorms of another college, not that I had thought of saying anything. Those whiners of North Central certainly do make a loud and clamorous noise even if their facts are a bit garbled. Since when does blizzard-stricken North Central run the universe I'd like to know?

Which Reminds Me

I vaguely remember the existence of a high school classmate named Alfredo. I vaguely remember that Maria, who was our maid when I was in 10th grade, mentioned having worked for Alfredo's family previously to working for us. They were demanding or something, I don't remember the details of what she said about that, nor do I much care to be reminded. I never really cared what Alfredo thinks of me or anyone else, so whatever. My name is not Ronit, who was the red-headed Jewish girl in our high school class, so I probably would not know what Alfredo is talking about. I noticed that he went on to become a Mexican scientist so that's nice but I do not work in the field of science or scientific research so, anyway, I probably would not understand what he is talking about. Nor do I have any Mexican connections so I would need to refer the Mexicans to the Tinker family who are descended from some famous Mexican general, as we recently learned. Yes, I probably would not understand about how that is connected.

Which Reminds Me

My aunt once told me a story about she and her husband being on the East Coast visiting at the home of another couple and that woman made a pass at her husband and my aunt may have berated her and broke off the friendship because she does not associate with that type of swinger people. I do not recall whether any names were mentioned so all I know about that is what my aunt said. The only thing I know for certain is it that it wasn't me. I wasn't even there so obviously it would be hard for me to imagine what silly New York bimbo that might have been. Where does one go to turn off this stupid New York bimbo machine? I would really like to know how to turn that off.

Which Reminds Me

I suddenly am remembering that you are the ones who sent someone to me yapping about store mannequins, as if I would care about your private jokes. I was never in the department store business so I really don't care, obviously. I just wish that all of you annoying shopkeepers would go away and leave me alone so I can get on with my real life.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is true, I must confess that I waded all the way through Tolstoy's humongous dreary novel, "Anna Karenina," a literary masterpiece describing a false and hollow woman who breaks her marriage vows and runs away for a passionate love affair with a dapper silly soldier boy, so handsome in his uniform yet so devoid of character and any other redeeming quality, or so the author portrays those two silly lovers who then flit around Russia with no place to hide. Passion was to the author but a mere frosting on the cake, other factors being of more weighty consideration than the whims and artifices of silly Anna. And yet, nevertheless, here we have a ponderous literary masterpiece explaining, in a manner of speaking, what not to do. Imagine that. Actually, it is not unusual to find bookstores and libraries full of such dire warnings, mistakes, and telltale narrations if you only you could learn how to read. Literacy is important.

And how many times do I have to explain that I never got very far in "Vanity Fair"? Just because the household spy saw this volume sitting on my bookshelf for years, that does not mean that I actually read very much past the first chapter. I had good intentions but Thackeray's coldly sardonic tone and Becky Thatcher's empty brain, portrayed as entirely devoid of any sense of reality, grated on my nerves. Underwater basket weaving was never really on my class schedule.

Yes, this theme of a woman following her passion could have an empty, meaningless ring to it without some framework of reality to which her story can be properly and correctly attached. Otherwise, there is a great danger of taking everything out of its proper context. Even I can figure that out with half a brain. Enough said.

Which Reminds Me

I am suddenly reminded that Craig was from Indiana. And also Craig is German. Oh.

Which Reminds Me

Anyway, I do vaguely recall the existence of Victor from South Carolina but I always thought that Victor and I were mutually not interested in each other and that there never would be any reason to think that Victor and I would ever be in any sort of deeper relationship ever in this lifetime. Thus, when I hear Pam yapping about Victor and telling me that I should not get any ideas about him and that he would not make a good husband for me, I simply think that Pam is somewhat overwrought on this point as I already know that I am not interested in getting better acquainted with Victor from South Carolina. I already know that Victor really likes those Italian girls such as Rosanne and also Suzette, but they are both married now to others while Victor, who knows? is just some boring banker with no personality left in him to speak of, just stashing money in the bank that a bachelor may spend however he please. Anyway, I really don't care what Victor does. Like I said, I always knew that Victor and I were never going to get together so there would be no point to any further discussion of Victor. Victor was Craig's friend, not mine.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, how rude of Pam to twist everything around as if Pam's boring ponderations on life were the only thoughts that ever crossed anyone's mind, and as if Craig were ever really a friend of mine that I should bother to introduce to anyone. Craig had dated Michelle, not me. When she said on the phone that she had lied about something I did not understand what she meant by that and even now I still don't understand. This has not much to do with the price of tea in China. I just don't want to hear another word from those annoying people. Good riddance to the Bowling Ball nuisance. I never see or hear another hint of them ever again.

Which Reminds Me

I recently remember that Maria, who was our maid when I was in the 10th grade, mentioned that she had previously worked for a Jewish family in another part of town and was not happy because they were very demanding. I don't remember any details of that, just that she said something about being glad to be out of there.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, someone is asking but really it is not my place, not my job to yank Peggy Swineheart off the platform whence she placed herself without even being on the schedule. And you ask me why there is no band? We were permanently disbanded. If Bill wants to get himself some other band he can leave me out of it. I have already been warned that anywhere I go to get involved there will always be this obnoxious pair of whiners, Peggy and Lisa, constantly whining and complaining about why I am not doing enough to get them more singing parts, as if I were somehow responsible for their mediocrity problem, as if I ever could tell Bill what to do, as if it were my job to give them more attention than they deserve. You can just go around killing people and then expect them to care later about your boring life.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, perhaps I should be asking why the dregs of New Jersey are imagining that we would ever want to do business with them? They have no contract on us there in New Jersey, in case they forgot, so I don't understand why they are yapping so loudly about nothing much.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is a bit awkward, all of these snooty rich people blustering about how us poor people just want to live off of their money, as if we were just some worthless gold-diggers, as if we ever thought there was any money for us to get from somewhere other than by getting a job and working. It sort of creates the mistaken impression of us poor people, as if we would not be able to get jobs and pay our own way, as if we were looking for some horrible rich person to sucker and parasitically attach ourselves to. I don't have such a prominent public platform to puff myself up into a toxic puffer fish. I am just a poor person who has to do whatever I have to do to get a better paying job because Mr. Right never made his appearance on the scene and without a husband to pay the bills I just have to get a job to my own way. There is no other choice but to get a job. There was no reason for some snarky rich Hunt dog to interpose his snarky opinions about poor people so obnoxiously into my personal life. Sure, some people are satisfied to slave as a waitress or domestic worker but those are persons who never attended college and probably were lousy students all around anyway even if they did graduate from high school, whoever they are. We never discussed our plans with those people because they really wouldn't understand. So you can get an early advantage by skipping college and just getting a job and start saving earlier but then again the idea is that you might not advance so far because you are so thinly educated. At least, that was how it was supposed to work. But some snarky rich Hunt dogs have not yet gotten a clue that we don't give a hoot about what Viking whiners may think of us and so they will just have to rot in their own Viking stew.

Which Reminds Me

Perhaps someone is trying to make a point about cholera being a disease in English, whereas in Spanish colera is anger. If so, I fail to see why I should bother to note this minor point, myself not being even yet aware of the existence of the Miriam noted in the diaries and even now being aware, still not yet caring whether Miriam lives or dies, her being not my problem.

Which Reminds Me

With some historians it has become habitual to criticize the Victorian era as being too repressive and tight-lipped about various subjects, as if we should just all have loose lips and talk about whatever, when actually people of the 19th century were well educated for their time and sometimes very articulate about some things that are rarely mentioned anymore, such as the beautiful scenery, while some people nowadays do not seem to know when to keep their big fat mouths shut on other topics that are none of their concern because really nothing they say matters in the whole scheme of things. Many words, even an onslaught of Sknickerisms, will not make you one inch taller. It just makes us weary of your constant grandstanding.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it was a bit awkward for us the last two years in El Salvador, having to work alongside those dreary Southern corn dogs, the Lampps and the Kinseys. It is only sheer coincidence that we now live in the same state as they do, but I never really liked them. They were sent by the church so of course we had to welcome them, but they were always so weird, always so actively campaigning for the failed Confederacy, sharing in common with the Chinese their Rising Sun complex, as if singleness automatically qualifies a woman as a Union sympathizer. Ummm. Well, reality is more complicated than that. And why did God take their life's blood so soon? Not long after arriving, Mr. Lamp drowned at the beach. And they immediately sought to blame us, gratuitously or not, for various reasons. As if we were somehow responsible for what God did to snuff out the incipient Confederacy of Central America. All of their cat-calling cannot change the reality of what God did in taking Mr. Lampp out of the picture. Sorry, but it was more complicated than that. I think that God understands more than you know.

Which Reminds Me

The father of my great-grandmother was possibly French Canadian, although nothing is known of him, just that he died in 1895. The mother of my great-grandmother died when she was a small child and he later remarried and had another daughter named Esther. My grandmother is also named Esther but my grandmother is not the other Esther of whom nothing is known, just that she existed. Someone was talking about the other Esther but I have no clue what they are talking about. I only know of my own grandmother, Esther.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, because one of our distant cousins did marry a Puerto Rican man, that does not mean that some other one of us must be required to round out the racial picture with marriage to some "gay" Cuban, whatever that means, so notoriously hostile to white woman as we all know. Who drummed up this stupid joke on me? I really wish that someone would kick it back to them because I was not even consulted in the first place and it is not my problem. Personally, I think that they should be required to drink their own stupid potions.

Which Reminds Me

It is true that my great-great-grandfather might have been a French Canadian man of whom nothing is known. There are a handful of photos circulating and a couple of mysterious stories about him but my great-grandmother's mother died when she was a young child and she was raised in Pennsylvania by her Smith aunts and uncles and cousins so her father did not play much of a role in her life, only appeared once when she was 10 years old to visit and then I see from genealogical research that he may have died in 1895 so she was already an orphan when she was married in 1899 or 1900. I have 16 great-grandparents so the French ethnicity is not predominant in our family as compared to Scottish, Irish, Welsh, English, etc. And besides which, I never met the Smiths and I never had any knowledge of their mental problems. Just because Maria Smith was a high school classmate, that does not mean that she was ever even slightly friendly to me in college. She was quite nasty person actually in high school. I really didn't like her attitude. Of course, there are those cousins who are married to the French so that does complicate matters a bit, and then there are those who are married to Germans and whatever else. So whatever. So if someone upstairs in the creepy wicked Smith attic has decided that I should marry some pathetically stupid Cuban man to spread the genetic picture they will just have to be disappointed because that was not my plan. Since when do these horribly wicked Smith people get to decide who I am going to marry based on someone else's stupid racial quotas? How utterly insulting. It is just never going to happen. Sorry.

Which Reminds Me

During high school, maybe during 10th grade, a group of high school seniors clad in strange costumes were hit by water balloons as they walked along the first floor corridor. If I had been on the second floor I probably would not have seen that, but I was downstairs, walking a few feet behind them. I did not get wet but I do have a vivid memory of seeing the water balloon splattering them. Ha ha ha! Anyway, it was not like the Class of '74 did not deserve to get hit on some level, in my opinion, so there was no reason to comment further. This was Senior Slave Day and the seniors interpreted slavery by arriving dressed in unusual costumes, many of the men dressed as women, the women in pajamas and housecoats. Several outrageous yearbook yet commemorate the day. I was only a tenth grader at the time so I did not have to do that. So outrageous, in fact, were the antics of the Class of '74 that slavery was abolished later, so that by the time that I was a senior it was a huge relief not to have to do that. We just had game day and lots of relay races and sports events. Of course, Dawn Saword did not return after 10th grade so she might not remember that slavery has been abolished. Do I really need to explain this to that clueless pack of Canadian idiot Andersons? Where have they been these last 150 years? Well, Dawn might have been too busy yapping about the mean pranks she and her brother played on Miss Nafsker to notice that nobody was impressed with those outrageous antics. I remember my little sister saying that my class was so outrageous, but she never saw what came before us so she really does not know what worse means.

Which Reminds Me

During high school I was widely renowned in regular PE class for being able to hit home runs at softball. Some girls would tease me about this and there was even a song that certain people would sing to the tune of Davy Crockett: "Candi, Candi Calkins, Chiquita pero Matona." So I was good enough for regular PE class obviously. I don't remember which year, maybe 10th or 11th grade, myself and several other girls were invited to try out for the real girls' baseball team. We were all lined up to bat and somehow I was first in line. So I went up and struck out three times and I was out. Those were some hard-driving hardball serves that Kathy was pitching, nothing like the softball serves that we had come to expect at softball. So after I struck out every other girl that went up to bat didn't even try to hit the ball and just walked. And then later I never heard anything from Kathy about the results of that. I don't know what she said to other people about that. But whatever. It was just one chance at bat and no other training was offered. So, anyway, I really did not care enough about that to ask any question. There was really no shame in striking out at hardball when anyway I never cared that much about sports. Just because Kathy is a sports fanatic, that does not mean that I ever cared about sports very much. In fact, I find sports people rather dull company if truth be told. In fact, if I had suspected in the first place that the whole point of inviting me to bat a hardball was only to strike me out, I think that I would have declined the invitation in the first place and spared myself the agony of defeat because, really, who cares? I took the minimum PE requirements to graduate and nothing more is required.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, there was a guy in our high school whose name was Lance. That is the only thing that I remember about him, just that his name was Lance and he was very tall. Beyond that I have no memory of Lance to share with you. Sorry. Just that water balloons were flying on School Game Day but I don't remember, just that I was not close enough to be hit by that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, what is all this chatter about me needing to go somewhere? I don't understand. Anyway, some things are just too personal to be discussed with shrill dogs named Stacy. If there were some logical place for me to go then maybe I would go there, but just to go nowhere in particular just because some stupid dog named Stacy has decided to scream at me, that is not a reason to go anywhere. If I weren't so blocked all around by shrill hags such as Stacy maybe I would be able to find somewhere to go but that would need to be my own personal decision, none of your stupid business. I don't take my orders from you.

Which Reminds Me

I might have mentioned to someone about how sometimes God talks to me. I might be doing something, anything, maybe I am in the shower washing my hair, and just thinking about things in my mind and God shows me something and the answer to my question just comes into my mind somehow. The Bible says to pray continually and I think that is what I am doing, so I don't know how I just am not worried about things. Of course, magazines and records have nothing to do with this. It is just me talking to God. I can't really explain this in so many words. Anyway, I probably should not be talking about this to some shrill pagan witch who does not understand about what it means to have a personal relationship with God. There are other spiritual things going on in this world, but the spirit of the world is at enmity with the things of God.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, Pat was so confusing. What did Pat mean by giving me a present that didn't seem to belong to me? It didn't make any sense to me but I followed her instructions and took it home with me because, I don't know, I thought she was in charge of something and knew what she was talking about. But I won't make the same mistake twice. The next time I see Pat I will just ignore her altogether because I can't let her do that to me again. Once fooled, shame on you.

Which Reminds Me

And then later my sister went out to California and got all buddy buddy with those shrill witches Linda and Jill, as if they were anything but a nuisance to everyone that I ever knew. Nobody actually liked them, and then my sister goes out there and hands over to them the kitchen sink, as if.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, don't I remember that Linda Harrington Smith was one of the financial aid staffers at college who were always so notoriously rude to anyone who might have the impertinence to ask any question of any kind, the principal Financial Aid Witch being Debbie Rush? If you really have to go go the financial aid office, just remember to take whatever you get and never ask any question. God forbid that you should have the impertinence to ask a question about grant eligibility. I have yet to hear the end of that. Given that the Financial Aid Witches are so notorious and infamous among the student body at large, it figures that Linda and Debbie must fall back on their witchcraft skills to get their message out, because certainly no one is going to "help" them later with that. My financial situation is really none of their business.

Which Reminds Me

It has become very evident that someone out there is angling for commentaries on Julia, who was my grandmother's sister, my Dad's aunt, Chris Gallup's grandmother, etc. I really don't have every much to say about her as I was rarely there and can almost count on one hand the times I was ever at her house in Carlsbad. Julia was very politically involved. But as she figures prominently in the diaries of great-grandmother, an accomplished seamstress, everything that is already known from the diaries is more than I could say personally about her. So she was a Republican and very political. Ok, so? Since when do we get to pick and choose our relatives based on party affiliations? Life is more complicated than that. If I say anything one way or the other about Julia I will just get all kinds of people angry with me on either side of the issue and for what? What do party politics have to do with the price of tea in China? I just don't care what you think about Julia.

Which Reminds Me

Someone keeps mentioning Maria, who was our maid when I was in the 10th grade. She was a nice person although a bit simple-minded and had a lot of personal problems such as being a single mother with two children. I mentioned to Susie that Maria was better at cooking than cleaning, parroting something that my mother said, and I have yet to hear the end of that. Maria might have mentioned working at other houses in town but I really don't remember the details of that. I wasn't paying that much attention to what our maids were doing in their spare time. Besides, my mother was the supervisor of them. Anyway, I thought that I was nice enough to Maria and our other maids at the time. Not to be mean or anything but the maids really have no place to come back later and make claims of that sort. They were paid quite well and got other benefits in working for American families so I am not aware of any problem existing on this point.

Which Reminds Me

During college I once sang in a girls' trio with Charlotte Rosser Hawkins and Cheryl Gansky. It was Cheryl who organized that. I really don't remember very much about those people. I remember Charlotte being there but I don't remember anything specific about her, just that she was there, maybe a couple of years behind me. I don't remember. I could say some not very nice things about her but that wouldn't be very nice of me, and also it would only be my uninformed opinion based on nothing else in particular, just that someone is wanting to pick a fight with me and wants me to fight back and thus get some scuttlebutt going. So there is no reason for me to launch into some bizarre communication with the Hawkins family to whom I am not related. I have become aware only recently that the Hawkins might be somehow related to the in-laws of my ex-Aunt Linda, who is the ex-wife of my uncle. Yes, it is a bit awkward having a divorce in the family but anyway no one on our side of the family wanted to be attached to Linda's mechanically Dutch-Hawkins machinery. Not to be mean about it or anything but we are not even slightly Dutch and/or Hawkins and we really don't care to hear more about that. I really don't care that much.

Which Reminds Me

Joan is pathetically stupid if she has mistaken me for the waitress, but then again I remember that there never was any intelligence found in those two shrill Italian hags Joan and Kathy. As if I should care enough to ask what was said in the private sayonces of Joan and Kathy in regards to Heather or anything else for that matter. To tell the truth, I could not care less. I never felt any sense of camaraderie with these horrid Italian hags Joan and Kathy, whose behavior was very puppetlike, as if someone else was pulling the strings. As if I should care. Ha! My life will be so much better after those two shrill Italian hags Joan and Heather have been entirely flushed out of me and mine. Any article I might have written giving some other false impression was a mere fiction clearly of the third-person variety for the benefit of someone else, obviously.

As a matter of fact there was a waitress on the board of the David A. Barth corporation but what was her name? Actually, her name was Anna H. Eber and she was apparently a single unmarried woman who worked as a waitress at a Pasadena coffee shop and who possibly hailed originally from a small Ohio town not far from the Lima, Ohio, from which my great-grandfather also hailed. I am only guessing on that point because I am not an official source and my findings are incomplete.

So? 

Which Reminds Me

Just because I do not appreciate the Hobby Lobby Heather Green meddlesome way of interfering with my personal life, always trying to upgrade themselves at my expense, by means of dubious comparisons, that does not mean that my opinions exactly coincide with those of the trashy gay Joan who sat directly in front of me in high school, in the alphabetical schemed of things. I have no idea why Joan and Kathy do not like Heather. I never discussed anything of the sort with them.

Which Reminds Me

Only by doodling on Facebook and Google do we learn that Heather married a certain Mr. Kohout, hence all of these stupid jokes about the "Out" Cohort. As if I ever cared about staying in touch with snooty horrible Heather, a nasty spoiled rich girl if there ever was one. I cannot these horrid rich people such as Heather pretending to know me. There really is no connection there. Just because Heather is all buddy-buddy with Patricia Cruz, that does not mean that I would have any connection to Nicky Cruz, the New York gangster. I don't know anything about that. I read the books but I have no personal connection there.

Which Reminds Me

How dare you send these ghetto trash New Yorkers to scream at me and tell me to go to New York! For one thing, I don't take orders from these New York ghetto trash dogs. If you had a specific job to offer me in New York that would be one thing. But I personally had no thought of going to New York. And why should I go to New York just to be chewed up and spit out by the exalted machinery of these horrid ghetto trash New Yorkers? I could not care less about New York, actually, so you should not be sitting on the edge of your chairs expecting my arrival there. Just because I read about New York in David Wilkerson's books, that does not mean that I would ever want to go there. I feel sort of sorry for those rude and horrible New York gangster people but I am not interested in hearing from them in any kind of personal way.

Which Reminds Me

After my first year at SCC, I remember that before going home for the summer I gave my address to Heather who lived in the room next to mine. Upon returning the next fall, Heather appeared at my door to berate me for returning the letter she had sent me. I told her that I had not received any letter from her. She produced an envelope that had been returned to her stamped as undeliverable. I looked at the address and it was not mine, as I told her. It was an address that would have been a couple of blocks away from our house, so obviously the post office automatically returned it to her without ever consulting me. And am I the post office that I should feel guilty about Heather's stupid mistakes? Spare me the stupid drama.

Speaking of Dutch

I am somehow reminded of Brother Andrew. What Christian has not heard of Brother Andrew's exploits smuggling Bibles into countries that were behind the Iron Curtain. Of course, that was the mid-20th century, before the fall of the Iron Curtain. Now that the Iron Curtain has fallen, without a Berlin Wall, a tilting windmill, to battle, how will the Dutchman keep those Open Doors propped open? Someone was asking this question but why were they asking me? I am not very connected to the Open Doors organization, although I do remember hearing the stories, reading the books. Who is to say that the Brother Andrew's smuggling of Bibles, all that prayer and care, did not have its intended effect in toppling the Berlin Wall and bringing down the Iron Curtain? Who is to say what is in store for Christians of the 21st century? Which reminds that while I was working in California at Hermano Pablo's for one year, they were renting space in the building to someone connected to Open Doors. I remember that Mark Carpenter, a co-worker, was saying some things about that lady and her ministry but I don't remember anything specific. What was her name? I don't remember anything about her now, just that she was a Messianic Jew, so I really wouldn't be able to say much. Of course, Mark Carpenter was tapping the phones and taking copious notes on every phone conversation, for which he was fired later, as we heard later, so you might have more luck asking Mark.

Which Reminds Me

I should correct one point. I only once attended Dr. Schuller's church in Garden Grove, when the college choir sang there one Sunday morning. But that was before the Crystal Cathedral was thought of. That was still under construction the one time I was there, when we all attended a concert there in maybe 1980 or 1981, but I never attended church there.

Which Reminds me

There seems to be some lingering confusion about our family. We are just human beings of Germanic and other Western European lineage who, if we are called to serve in Christian ministry, like everyone else on the planet are able to serve God in any capacity that God should call us. We do like a good steak for dinner but we are Christians so we obviously are not interested in learning more about animal sacrifices that are practiced by various witch doctors hereabouts. So all of this talk about us not being able to handle the things of God sounds very weird coming from fellow Christians. It is not like there was ever any genealogical requirement for becoming a Christian minister. Persons of many various family descents and lineages may become Christian ministers if they apply themselves to their Biblical studies. Like everyone else in the U.S., we would not want our children to think that their options for Christian ministry are limited by genealogical and family heritage considerations. That is just wrong wrong wrong. You are just Mr. Wrong.

Which Reminds Me

During my last year at SCC my roommate was from Miami and her brother was running the school newspaper. Although I heard that she later married Sergio Rivera, at that time she was dating one of those Oriental guys, Ken or Kent. Those Oriental guys always think they are so clever. One time I was talking to him and he was trying to corner me on some point and I don't remember what I said. It was just wasn't something that I could answer in so many words. Then he was acting like he had won some sort of contest even though I really didn't say anything. These Oriental people are just a nuisance and I would rather avoid them entirely so as not to have feel obligated to answer stupid questions.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I believe I did make some comment about Isobel. She allows looks so unhappy, her face always scrunched into a frown. Yes, and maybe that means something and maybe it does not mean anything. I don't know what people are thinking. I just thought she looked very miserable and cross all of the time. That was all I said.

Which Reminds Me

And why is it that the Robertsons are pretending to know our California relatives when actually they have never been there and have no real connection to us? In high school I had a dog named Dee-Dee but we gave her away before we left and I really don't remember what happened to her. I imagine that our dog Dee-Dee is long since dead so there really is no connection there.

Which Reminds Me

In doing our genealogical research, it was interesting to learn that the Davenports might actually be our long-lost cousins somehow removed from the Calkins line, tracing back to the 19th century, although am I really not sure how that could possibly be connected to us. I really never thought that we were ever related to the Davenports but then again there is this mysterious and secretive campaign to discredit the Calkins for no particular reason that we can actually see. It is always attributable to someone else somehow. And why should we care about unknown events and unknown persons of the 19th century when actually this has no bearing on our case? Honduras translates easily to El Salvador, but then again there are all those bullet holes in the picture. I am really not sure what that could mean.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, how well I remember Barbara Wilder in sixth grade talking about herself being flatfooted in addition to wearing a size D shoe. As for myself, I could never hope to fill the shoes of this D-feeted Barbara, who as I recall had long red hair, a lighter red than my auburnish. There were three of us redheads in sixth grade at the MK school: Barbara, Sammy, and me. But the fourth sixth grader, and there were four of us in sixth grade that year, was brownish haired Dawn. The Davenports were away on furlough that year so blonde Cheryl was out of the country. So anyway, you will never succeed in this effort of D-feeting me, you pompous old windbag, always so full of hot air. My feet were never that wide. So yours are quite the bizarre gymnastic contortions, perhaps a failed effort to pretend that Dawn Saword was ever somehow Pentecostal when actually the Sawords were quite the reverse, quite anti-Pentecostal. Just because we all attended the same school, that does not mean that we ever agreed on certain points of doctrinal purity. The Sawords actually belonged to a tiny exclusivist cult that is extremely legalistic and severe. The Sawords taught that women should never cut their hair and girls never wear pants or wear makeup of any kind, etc. etc., because they interpret certain Bible verses very literally. So we respected their right to live as they chose but as for me, I could not live under that sort legalism. I did wear pants even though a girl because, anyway, it was the 20th century and we interpret that in a different way. (Barbara Wilder and her brother, 8th grader Jeff, were Central American Mission, which is sort of like Baptist, not Pentecostal.) So just because these people were with us in school, that does not mean that they are of us. Just because in college I remember one roommate talked about attending the Crystal Cathedral, also attended by her then-boyfriend, also a college classmate, that does not mean that I ever attended any Dutch Reformed Church ever in my lifetime, only one time and only because the college choir sang there one Sunday morning. Otherwise, I have no connection whatever to the Dutch Reformed thing. Perhaps Professor Elliott, a music teacher at our college, attended there regularly, given that his son Chris was into organ music, and our churches cannot offer much in the way of organ music to speak of. But otherwise I have really no idea why these Dutch Reformed busybodies would imagine themselves connected to us. They might be Christians but they are certainly not Pentecostals. Not that we would not them to become Pentecostals later if so inclined but they have not been properly trained so they obviously have no clue what they are talking about. They are not very good listeners.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely remember meeting someone named Gay while I was there but I don't really remember very much about her, just that her name was Gay, so I suppose a name like that could be somewhat inconvenient in modern times. The word formerly meant something else but not so much now. Anyway, I don't speak Gaylick either so I am at somewhat of a loss for words as to what this relates to Kelly. I really have nothing to add to whatever someone else probably said about that.

Which Reminds Me

When I was studying journalism one of our teachers was Dr. Kelly. I really did not know them very well and remember very little, just that his wife is a Filipina whose name I do not recall. So I remember that Dr. Kelly was a rather cranky person known for having a bad temper and launching into some episodes of temper display, which probably has something to do with his Irish heritage, but which was not very helpful in career situations, or so I heard. I really don't know the details of that, only some hearsay. Nobody really wants to ask or to hear more of that. It imagine that it is another sad story but it would be sort embarrassing for the Kelly family. So I imagine that all of the Kelly family are prone to such temper tantrums, which is why I would not be interested in hearing from his shrill nasty broadcasting cousins. I really don't care that much. I don't even know those people so why are they shrieking at me?

Which Reminds Me

Anyway, I  wonder what makes all these horrible Irish Catholics think that I would want to be 'in' with them? I'm not Irish. I'm not Catholic. I'm really not interested in discussing anything at all with them so obviously they are wasting their time with all of this taunting of me. I am just never going to go there.

Which Reminds Me

During my senior year in high school I was chosen as a soloist for the musical prepared by the girls' choir. Ok, so I was the bad guy, but it was the largest role with two solos so that seemed somewhat amazing to me that I would be doing a starring role of sorts. Someone was saying that Kathy, our choir director's daughter, had expressed her jealousy of me and my being chosen by her own mother for a starring role in the musical. How rude of me to exist and thus by my existence thus to interfere with Kathy's relationship with her mother. Anyway, haughty arrogant shrill Italian hag Kathy was never in the choir because she was too busy schmoozing with snooty rich girls to give me the time of day so why should I care? So I am thinking someone was saying  that her mother told her that her schmoozy work would be rewarded later with a rich husband upon her return to the U.S. whereas I would be thrown in the garbage by them later because I don't really fit in very well with these snooty arrogant nasties. My existence is problematic for their Italian scheme. I am too white, too square, etc. etc. So now you are asking me why do I not feel sorry for Kathy's hurt feelings at not being chosen to star in a musical and I am saying that it is hard for me to conjure much sympathy for a nasty Italian rich bitch who was always so nasty to me during high school, meaning Kathy. I could say pretty much the same thing about pathetically stupid Dummies-class Kelly Elliott. Someone really ought to zip Kelly's mouth permanently shut because she obviously has no clue what she is talking about.

Which Reminds Me

The Johnsons have extended their protection to the shrill Italian hags, much the same way that LBJ's Great Society gives a free ride to black welfare moms. But some Italian woman has resented being likened to a black person, even though her skin color certainly is dark enough to qualify as a black person. Now all she needs is a permanent to give her black hair some kink and she will have no problem qualifying for food stamps and other welfare benefits. So shoving white-skinned me into the ranks of unemployed indigents as well will not solve this welfare problem plaguing these dark-skinned Italian witches. But that certainly is an interestingly back-handed way of explaining it to me. Oh, I had not previously heard that.

Which Reminds Me

Someone has forgotten to remind the repulsive putrid Johnson family that they are not paying our salaries and that we are thus under no obligation to take orders from those shrill Italian hags that they have apparently taken it upon themselves to "protect." None of those Johnson whiners were ever elected here and they are not owed any prize for elevating those shrilly nasty Italian hags way beyond a realistic level of toleration. I wasn't planning to be mean to them, but they are insisting on a level of confrontational stupidity that cannot rewarded. Just because some distant cousin of my mother's was at one time an employee of the Johnson family, that does not mean that we ever voted for LBJ.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, someone is saying that the fruit of the crabby crabapple tree is sourish and tarty, surprisingly bitter of taste. Now that Charles is gone, we are not so fond of these bittery branches that we should spare the severe pruning, the pieces slashed and torn and tossed in the refinery fire. We are just saying. Which reminds me that I overheard Rene and Greg talking about his problem with crabs, a male thing I remember him saying. But I would not want to have to explain that myself, even if I did overhear this. I think that Greg and Rene should speak for themselves. It's not like I ever tried to speak for them so I would expect the same consideration from them. Speak for yourself or your voice will be taken away from you by these busybodies.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is weird that this Rene Lestarjette should be yapping all over the place, as if she were connected to power somehow. All she got for a husband was dull and boring Greg (MK-Dominican Republic) who is only a firefighter. So that is a nice and noble profession but just fighting fires is not going to get Rene anywhere near the top of the ladder. Her brother-in-law is only Mark, that dreary German guy from Evangel, married to Linda (MK-Dominican Republic) whose dreams of election have evaporated in the face of some dubious methodologies. How relevant is this experience on the Silk Road of Pakistan, where evangelism is actually illegal, in terms of how we run our churches here in the United States? Um, not very applicable actually in our opinion. So they have their little niche ministry where few are called to go, but the rest of us like our freedoms here the way there are. So someone really should tell Rene to shut up now or she will be sorry later.

Which Reminds Me

During my first year at Southern California College I spent one semester attending church in Dana Point, carpooling with some girls who included Laurie Way. So that was only one semester of college that we spent commuting to Dana Point on Sundays because the carpooling made it easy to get to church even though it was only a Calvary Chapel. Calvary Chapels were such boring places to attend church. You arrive at the front door and they hand you a menu of what is going to happen so you already know in advance that it will just be the same thing and that nothing will never change. And the preacher at Dana Point was so boring, I never could remember later what he was talking about. But it was a beautiful drive along the beach in the morning getting there and back, such gorgeous beach landscapes. They say that there actually is a Point there in Dana Point but I am not sure that I actually visited the Point myself, only heard talk of it. It is only hearsay that we imagine that Dana Point has a point but I am not really sure what it was. It was a long way to go for not much in the way of interest so the next semester I found other ways to get to church.

Which Reminds Me

In high school girls' choir I always sang the alto part because I actually could carry a part. It was hard for some other people to get beyond the melody so there always were more sopranos than altos. There were a couple of other girls who always sat near me and tried to listen to me to learn the alto part or to stay on the part but I don't remember their names, let alone what their religions were. It was just choir.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is a bit awkward, my murderously wicked little sister pretending to be a victim of my violence when actually she has aligned herself with the wicked Italian garbage who will be thrown away into meaningless obscurity when I get home to the U.S. because they are mostly a huge nuisance, always spitting in my face as if their covetous envy of my mineral rights were somehow justification for their murder of me in order to get it from her, not that I ever had any rights, never mind about the Ten Commandments. Sometimes violence is the only way to defend one's own rights, and yet I am not allowed to exercise my rights of self-defense and preservation, while they are allowed to trample mercilessly upon me. The powers that be have decided that I must die so that they can get their hands on my stuff, which does not particularly amuse me. I would prefer to stay in control of my own life. I am just normal, obviously.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I do recall during my senior year in high school we were invited to a special rehearsal at the home of our choir director, Mrs. SanGio, where I learned that their family dog is named Candy. So I am sitting there and all of these girls and yelling "Candy, Candy" but they are talking to their dog, not to me. So that was weird. Obviously, I am not available for doing stupid dog tricks in exchange for some morsel of Italian garbage. If I want Italian food I will cook it myself, Americanized as it may be it tastes good enough for me, or else buy it at the local pizzeria. So I don't need those shrill Italian hags for anything.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it is a bit awkward to see this Mark Housefield presuming to command the universe, as if he were ever going to be elected superintendent of the whole works. He really should learn to be content with his college professor position which is good enough for them. Does anyone really want to unleash Marty's big fat mouth, not to mention Mark's pack of trickster Genies, as if I care what they do? Mark's photo appears in my college yearbook but I remember absolutely nothing about him. So what is this shrill Hungarian hag Marty, his mother-in-law, so worked up about anyway? I never particularly enjoyed hearing Marty's jaw flapping in the breeze. Perhaps Marty wants to transfer her citizenship back to Tartary where she belongs. Anyway, I really couldn't care less what they do.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, what household spy could miss that photo of me sitting on the sofa reading a book? I was 10 or 11 years old at the time so you can easily imagine what I might have been reading. Actually I was a big fan of Nancy Drew mysteries at that age among other books from the children's library. It was hard for me to put the book down when I have not reached the last page, but that was before I learned how to skip around and also I found that nonfiction is better and lost my interest in fiction. Truth is stranger than fiction as they say. I am just saying. And when the Lestarjettes were visiting here a few years ago Marty went on and on about Pakistan and how she was advised not to be seen by the male house servants there sitting on the sofa reading a book. Apparently these Arabs are prone to getting the wrong impression of pretty much anything that a woman might do. Anyway there is no connection there that I can recall so there is no reason for me to answer that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, there is one other thing that I remember overhearing. I was in the girls' bathroom downstairs when I happened to overhear Kathy talking to some other girls about her boyfriend having been seen at some event accompanied by Linda Sease, another high school classmate. So that is all I would know about that, just that the two were seen together somewhere and Kathy was wound up about that as any drama queen might be. I walked out of the bathroom and right there standing next to the door of the bathroom directly under the high window was standing her boyfriend obviously straining to overhear what Kathy was saying. How much he actually heard of what Kathy had already said and might have said after I left I have no idea. You would have to ask him. You are asking me why did I not turn around and go back inside the bathroom and tell Kathy that her boyfriend was eavesdropping at that moment, and I answer that I don't know, the thought never crossed my mind. It is not like Kathy ever talks to me so there would be no reason for me to interact with her on this point. I would not want to be implicated in her personal vendettas. After all, Kathy is often known to break forth into strange verbal outbursts of no explainable significance. If she did not trust her boyfriend, she should have thought about that before she married him. But it did seem sort of weird. Did no one else see him standing there eavesdropping? So it might seem a bit strange that later Linda seemed to disappear from school but I wouldn't know anything else about that. I don't really know those people. Our high school was really not a warm and friendly place. One might have wished it were but it wasn't.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, now I remember. Joan and Kathy were talking about Heather in front of my nose in 10th grade English class. They were saying that Heather is imperiously bossy and also that she and family were in Washington D.C. working for Nixon. I cannot say that these things are not true of Heather. I really do not know Heather and have no connections there. Neither do I care what Kathy and Joan think about this because, anyway, they themselves are clones of Heather. Did not they all sit as a group at Lance's feet listening to his guitar strumming and hippie songs during ninth grade? I really would not be able to explain what they are talking about in so many words. So that is all there is, just that I overheard Kathy and Joan talking about Heather. Which was odd because I don't recall overhearing anything other such exchanges between Kathy and Joan. After all, it is not like they would want me to overhear something.