Which Reminds Me

You know me not at all when you pretend to know me through my cousin Karen, you pompous Illuminati dog. I care not about your many degrees of ascension in the Secret Order of Mumbo-Jumbo when you sit over there in your corner of study hall spewing your stupid incantations, desperately trying to leverage my grandmother's meager correspondence into something more, you have only proven yourself to be the spy who ransacked my grandparents' old paperwork and nothing more. Your words are meaningless. I cannot have myself represented by some stupid Illuminati dog, needless to say.

Which Reminds Me

During my internship I wrote an article about happiness and it was even published. Yes, I suppose that there are those who experience happiness and then there are those who write articles about happiness. There are those who teach and those who do, as the conversation went. Yes, why didn't I go for the teaching license like cheerleader Jennie did? It was true what Mrs. Dixon when she reprimanded me for dropping out of the teaching thing, but I just didn't care. I could never quite picture myself doing that.

Which Reminds Me

Someone was reminding me of a book that I read during high school, a novel by Eugenia Price, one of her St. Simons Trilogy books, I don't remember which one, in which a lady living on the Georgia island gives to her friend a gift of a lovely crystal bird. Yes, I do remember reading that book, but how odd to be reminded of that specific incident in the book by a person who would not be aware of the contents of my high school bookshelf.

Which Reminds Me

Perhaps someone has reminded me of the Kvetco family who were at the Bethel Church. I really don't remember much about them. They were some friends of my sister. However, I really don't remember much about the Bethel Church people. They were just my sister's friends. I really can't say that I know them.

Which Reminds Me

I went all the way to Virginia only to find myself dogged by this Lori from Michigan. How many times do I have to explain that I am not interested in joining the military? I just don't care. I am only a girl. I could not even begin to explain about guns, and then there is the John Birch Affair to which our family has not even the slightest connection, that is, the story of the Baptist missionary/CIA agent murdered in China. How many times do we have to explain that the John Birch Affair is not our problem? I have no clue. Not even one clue. Not even a shade of a clue. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.

Which Reminds Me

How dare you call me an alien hybrid! Where is the DNA test to prove your lies? I am just as much a part of the human race as anyone else around here. And your father is the Devil himself, the Father of Lies and Liars.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I have noticed that some smart alecky person is trying to dramatize the written agreement that my parents as missionaries have to sign in which they agree to hold the national organization of our church denomination entirely blameless in all matters. The church is not liable for anything. So does that make me a liar? Umm, I think not. I think that why should I be the one to dramatize this point when I don't even know what they are really trying to cover up? Is no one else guilty of anything? I just have no idea.

Which Reminds Me

Maria was the name of one of our maids. Maria worked for us for about a year, probably when I was in 10th grade. Maria was newly arrived from somewhere out in the country where people live in tiny little shacks with no running water and electricity and very little exposure to civilization. She had maybe a sixth or eighth grade education. She was a single mother with one daughter. Sometimes she would ask very naive questions that were a little bit amusing for ignorance but anyway I would try to be helpful and explain some things. I don't remember anything specific. Maria's boyfriend reappeared in her life after a long absence and then suddenly she was a single mother with two children. I remember hearing her crying because she had so many personal problems and stresses what with her boyfriend dropping in and out and who knows what else. I really wouldn't know or want to know. I felt that it would be too intrusive to ask her why she was so distressed that day. One day our friend Susie was visiting from the U.S. and I was explaining about our maids and Susie thought it was so ludicrous that I was talking as if I were the employer. Yes, I do think I was parroting some things that my mother said. Ok, so I am guilty of being a bit of a parrot.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, Mexico is a sad place. There, if you get involved in a car crash you are thrown in jail and assumed guilty. That happened to my parents' friend Stan Black. I remember hearing the story about how he was badly injured and yet thrown in jail without medical care. Never mind who was at fault. Only later was he taken to a doctor where all of the many shards of glass were removed from his body. I might have retold this story a time or two although I really don't remember. Here in the U.S. we have excellent emergency services. Medical people immediately take you to the hospital and the police will take charge of reviewing the accident scene and ask questions later. Assuming the police are called if it seems that serious. In fact, off-duty medical people will even pull over and volunteer to help if they see an accident on the side of the road, which I thought seemed nice at the time. Except why was he sort of holding or adjusting Mr. Skinkle's neck that way? I really wouldn't know. I was never trained in emergency medical services.

Which Reminds Me

Someone has referenced the Bridal Call or The Bridegroom's Messenger, which are ancient Pentecostal magazines published maybe 100 years ago. I must admit that I was not old enough to be aware of these ancient magazines until quite recently, myself being a creature native to the late 20th century. Only by research and deep reading does one become aware of the existence of the Bridal Call, a magazine published by Aimee Semple MacPherson, who founded the Foursquare denomination. Umm, OK, so that's nice. And The Bridegroom's Messenger is a magazine that was published by unknown Pentecostals out of Georgia. Umm, Ok, so that's nice. Myself not being a librarian, I am not sure why I would need to know this, but whatever. I have only driven through a small section of Georgia a handful of times on my way to somewhere else so I really would not be aware of Georgia having any Pentecostal inhabitants. I am only aware of the Baptist Bells and Reeses of Atlanta who mostly treated me like garbage during high school so obviously Atlanta would not be a destination that would be on my mind. After high school I will be free to find my own life and friends entirely separate from and unknown to the Bells and Reeses because, well, not to be mean but it is really none of their business.

Which Reminds Me

I see no need to negotiate with persons whose existence is unknown to me. Am I a U.S. public school teacher or guidance counselor that I should feel myself required to impose an English-only policy? know nothing about such matters.

Which Reminds Me

Oh, I did not know that televangelist Pat Robertson was directly descended from King Ferdinand of Spain. Yes, and I suppose that perhaps even Queen Elizabeth herself and all of the monarchs of Great Britain are somehow connected to the Spanish monarchy as are all of those Royal Houses of Europe interconnected after all of these centuries. So it sort of makes sense that the Spanish conquistadors would seek an alliance with the Southern slaveholders in their bid to stamp out the last sparks of those reticent Yankee independents, as if the being reticent and independent-thinking were somehow a problem. I really don't understand what the problem is. That sounds so, um, racist to even think of it let alone say it. As if oppressing redheads in that the Spanish do that would somehow accomplish that? Illogical. It is hard for them to pigeonhole whites who are neither Scottish nor Irish. It is more complicated than that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, that is quite a pity party the Jacobite Stewarts of Spain have staged for themselves and myself having only the slightest notion of Scottish history. You must have me confused with Susie Stewart who is I imagine well prepared to explain about those people stranded in Spain as yet unable to resume the throne of Scotland. They don't teach very much about that in Western Civ class. You have to dig deeper to figure out what these Jacobites are getting at. The Stewarts of Spain were born to rule as monarchs but their lives were only an empty waiting game. How sad that they have to spend their entire lives preparing for a job that they may not live long enough to fulfill. So sad.

Oh, I didn't know that. So was I supposed to comment about something of which I was completely unaware?  I am not a citizen of Scotland that I would have any say in who should rule Scotland. I really wouldn't know. It is not like Susie and Sammy ever really tell us anything.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, all of this mock repentance with crocodile tears seems so moving and yet I am not impressed. You are not needed by me. I will just die eventually and go to heaven thanks to my faith in Jesus and the world will just go on without me which may be just as well. To hell in a hand basket with you if you so wish, is what you were expecting me to say. Whatever. The Great Commission is what we are all commissioned to do but I was somehow blocked on this point. Jesus will understand. He experienced what it is to be blocked better than anyone living. We have in Jesus an advocate who sympathizes with our sufferings. Was my name Able that I should be an agent of salvation for anyone? I have no power to reprieve you of the due penalties of your misbehavior. No, only Jesus is able to effectively save and cleanse us from sins.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, that was a very weird prank that my sister pulled on Lori during high school. She and a classmate of hers collaborated to write fake love letters that they put into her locker or something and then they thought it was so funny when Lori was flattered by the attention that she thought was coming from some unidentified male admirer. I only know about this because my mother told me later. Someone was trying to dump all of that garbage on me but it just won't stick. How many times do I have to explain that it was all her thing? It not my fault and I had nothing to do with it. She always did love to pull very elaborate pranks that never would have crossed my mind and she gets much delight in observing the misery of her prank victim. Especially me.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, that was so horrible what my sister did sending faked love letters to Lori, as if it were funny to see Lori's emotions get all thrown out of whack by this fiction. The letters were somehow slipped into Lori's locker or something. I don't remember the details of that. I only heard about it after the fact. So what can I say to explain that about my horrible sister? Nobody asked me. My sister at least went and apologized to Lori later. Yes, but she really should be ashamed of herself.

Which Reminds Me

It was much too crazy to be published.  Ok, so maybe I did say some derogatory things about my sister. She has well earned her reputation I must say. There was something about maybe you would like to know her locker combination so that you could steal all of her stuff. I don't remember why I said that. Maybe because she was throwing all my stuff around all the time and didn't even care. And if I try to defend myself I will just lose this fight because everything is already rigged against me. So whatever.

Which Reminds Me

How many times do I have to repeat the same irrelevant stories? As if you had forgotten. One day in high school I was bored and so I took the dust jacket of one of my literature books, something about Greek poetry, and inserted it inside out into the typewriter and, clickety-clack, typed away until I finished the entire white space. I did that just to see if I could fill the whole white space with words. And then I completely forgot about it until a couple of years later when my sister borrowed that book and took it to class and found the wordage and showed it to her friends who read it and concluded that I am crazy. My sister never was discriminating about taking up with whatever vagrants cross her path. Whatever they want they get automatically. A typewriter is just a machine. But if you were expecting me to discuss the wording further you will be disappointed. I think not. It was just a private thing, nobody's business but mine.

Which Reminds Me

Which reminds me that someone was talking about how annoying it is the way these guys treat us like "it." Which means they pretend to be so nice, always greeting us in a joking way and making little "funny" comments so that it gives the mistaken impression that they like us and want us to be their friends when actually they are just being political, just gathering data on "people" to uphold their future power careers. All of this drama about pretending to be our friends transmits a wrong impression to other potential boyfriends who may imagine that we would not be interested in getting to know them because these other guys are so aggressively preoccupying our time in college which is short. The Cederblom boys were a prime example of this time of political skunk. Everyone knows what two-faced double-crossing whiners the Cederbloms really were. So awkward that the higher-ups stupid Triplett trash don't seem to get the picture.

Which Reminds Me

About 25 years ago I was living in Central Florida and at that time I heard that our friend Sammy was assistant pastor at a church in Orlando area which was pastored by Mark Rutland. I did visit there a few times and thought that Mark was a very good speaker. However, later I moved away and don't remember anything else about them. I never did have much feeling of affinity for these deep-fried Southern grits people who cannot seem to control their mouths. Don't they know that everyone is listening and that they cannot control the outcome of these tongue lashings? Everything said to them or in their presence comes back around all twisted into strange shapes. I have learned the hard way not to trust my former friends from childhood. I would like to keep some things to myself and obviously I would not be able to trust the twins Susie and Sammy not to repeat everything I say or even happened to overhear them say. They take such a hostile view of me as evidenced by the echoes of their back-stabbing commentaries in wide circulation. Is it any wonder that Susie and Sammy are so fat?

Which Reminds Me

Yes, that was so mean of Sammy Stewart to say all of those nasty things about Nancy Harmon, even putting on a show of mock tears as if to imitate her performance. She is actually very talented but, anyway, did I repeat Sammy's comment maybe once? Let me explain about Sammy. He is quick to criticize people like Nancy Harmon but of course one he would not want anyone criticizing his own family performance. Some of these guys are just too mean.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I was seen talking in the church lobby with a known complainer, which somehow makes me guilty of the same. Whatever. Why should I exert myself to clarify these minor points? Better to let Max stew in his own web of intrigues than for me to involve myself in these ridiculously minor dilemmas that are of no concern to me. People are stupid and often say stupid things. Whatever. If you wanted a PR flack you would need to pay me and put me on staff but since you have refused to do so you really will not get much from me in the way of commentary. Whatever. Am I Italian that I should be on the CIA payroll? No, obviously it was not my problem.

Which Reminds Me

Someone is angling for a joke based on the concept of domestic vs. foreign. And if I am a U.S. citizen does that make me a domestic servant? And if I am a redhead does that make me a domestic servant? Will that type of stereotyping make me sympathetic to Latina domestic stereotypes? I never said that I should not do my domestic chores like everybody else on the planet. It does take some getting used to not having a mandatory maid around after high school to do all of these things. I was robbed of my chores early on and now I am judged guilty before I can even get started. How can you say that I do not take care of my things when you stole my stuff and scattered it to the four winds so that I could never get it back? The Chinese lady with the bound lotus feet at least has an excuse but I do have slave-sized feet as do you so you have no excuse either for not doing your fair share. And why are you so eager to humiliate me, a white girl, in advance on the point of domestic chores? That scheme of making the illiterate redhead sweep the floors might have worked a few hundred years ago but in these modern times you may have to find some other excuse for exercising these slave-holding techniques. There just aren't going to be many redheads available in the future so you will just have to scratch your own back.

Which Reminds Me

And what does all this have to do with the Alfred Burrell money? I would not have the foggiest idea, obviously. I noticed there was a certain Mr. Hayes who was suing for the Burrell money in California but that was maybe 100 years ago. No one has ever said that Alana Hayes has any dime of the Burrell money. Not that I care. Obviously it was never my money nor would I know anything about that. Anyway, no one ever mentioned the Burrell money so this point is pointless.

Which Reminds Me

I remember one time during college at some time of event, maybe a prayer meeting, some girls were hugging each other and crying and being emotional. At that time some person made a remark about all of these lesbians. I know exactly who said that. It was that smart aleck Joe Graves. I really wouldn't want anyone to think that I said that. It was obnoxious Joe Graves who thinks he knows everything who said that. Besides, Charlotte is really not a nice person to speak of. Those people could really make your life miserable whether it was true or not. Well, at least Charlotte eventually did get herself a husband to prove otherwise.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I suppose that trashy Alana was to be pitied but she was the Popineaus' dog, not mine. I didn't quite realize how trashy the Popineaus' people were until Alana called me and told me more details than I ever wanted to know. How shocking! So whatever. I moved away soon after and do not wish to resume that conversation. Why don't you ask the Popineaus what they know of the details? I am sure that they would know a lot more about that than I would.

Which Reminds Me

Someone is angling to get a statement about high school classmate Anita Stone but I really don't know enough about that to say whether or not she was an apostate. Just because I saw her reading her Bible at the club and overheard something about her, that does not mean one way or another that I could say positively that she was or was not a flaky witch. And, anyway, don't I know that my own aunt's name is Anita? But I really don't know anything else about that. You would probably need to ask my Dad to get the scoop firsthand because I only overheard a few things. I cannot be expected to explain what the flaky cousins were doing while were out of the country. I am not their parents.

Which Reminds Me

I am not very interested to ask questions of people of whom I know almost nothing. As, for example, is our high school classmate Rafael Gallo somehow related to the Columba Gallo who married Jeb Bush? I really don't know very much about any of these people, nor do I drink wine, much less the Gallo wine produced in Moedesto, nor did I even take notice of Columba's last name until quite recently. I do not follow political people and really don't want to know anything more about them. I don't socialize with that type of party person. She is from Guanajuato, so perhaps she is acquainted with Eugenia who was our maid the year we lived in Mexico when I was 8 years old. And then again maybe not. How many millions of people live in Mexico? I cannot be expected to connect all of these dots.

Which Reminds Me

When I was maybe 10 or 11 years old in El Salvador there was a Christmas program at church in which we participated. There were four of us MK girls all dressed in white robes with sparkly tin foil halos on our heads and fake wings attached to our backs all standing around the makeshift manger arranged on the platform to represent the birth of Christ. Of course the blond angels stood center front and the two redhead angels standing farther back. Not that we had made these arrangements or thought of ourselves as angels in any real sense of that word. It was just a church pageant like so many others staged in churches all over the world. That didn't mean that I actually imagined myself an angel when obviously I am not. I am very human as I well know. There was never any need to press this point any farther than that.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, all of these lousy jokes about me not being invited to parties, do you really think that I am so dumb that I do not get the joke about myself not being admitted to parties of either kind? Something about myself having no gift worthy of them. Uh huh. And do you really imagine that I am the type of smarmy social-climbing gold-digger who measures their self-worth only terms of social contact with snooty arrogant party people? I really could not care less about these party people. So you are just wasting your breath on me if you expect that I will be motivated to action by all of this overblown hype. You don't even make any sense.

Which Reminds Me

There is a recording of me at age 2 singing: "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so, Little ones to him belong, they are weak but he is strong." And if the Republican elephant boasts of its own strength, does that mean that Republicans are necessarily always representative of Jesus and Christianity? And if I am weak on some point, does that make me a Democrat? And are Republicans always strong on every point, having no weak point whatever that might be exploited by Democrats? These questions are somehow suggested to the mind by recent developments.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I always did have a rather low opinion of Darren Drake. Who gave that slobbering idiot a microphone? Darren certainly loves to toot his own horn but he seems to have forgotten that he only plays a small bit part in a much larger ensemble, and if he continues to "forte" the "piano" passages he would soon find his butt kicked out of the show, not that I would have anything to do with that. It is just elementary. Oh, is Darren related to Wicked Witch Olive Drake? I really wouldn't know. No one ever mentioned him.

Which Reminds Me

Someone has reminded me that during college I was seen greeting or conversing with Gary Easley, a college music major who, as it happens, was from the Church of Christ denomination. Don't I know that Easley has mentioned they do not allow musical instruments played in their church, only vocal music? How odd that seems to us, so accustomed are we to indiscriminately accepting music of whatever kind into our sanctuaries. Easley's appearance at our college was a strange anomaly. You should not be judging us by his example alone. And yet what virtue was there in fingering a clarinet and yet having no personality to speak of, yourself being nothing but a milquetoast wimpy band member named Darren Drake? In fact, the band members that I can remember were a bland and boring sort. Yes, it would seem that harpie Karen kept herself quite busy flirting with the guys in the band but I did not share her enthusiasm for such band geeks. Music was disappointing. You are just a boring cog in a sideshow, nothing more.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, there was a time when Pentecostals prided themselves on being a growing spiritual movement while the mainstream denominations such as Methodism were dying. That would have been more true in the mid-20th century, after modernism had its devastating effect. Still, we are all Christians. Some Methodists were vindictively persecuting Pentecostals to avenge themselves of some perceived slight. Yet we are all Christians. You should not be confusing us with the Church of Christ people who think that only they are saved. We are not that simple-minded as that. It is complicated than that but I don't have all day to talk about it, especially since you never asked us any questions. You just jumped to a lot of questionable conclusions without asking us.

Which Reminds Me

Research reveals that there was a missionary named Bob Hoskins who was a Methodist Episcopal missionary at Cawnpore, India, but he died in 1903. So obviously I had never heard any mention of Bob Hoskins in connection to India nor do I see any reason for all of these surly humorless references to him in connection to India when obviously I never knew anything about this in the first place. Some people are much too vindictive and vengeful to gain admittance to the Dictionary game.

Which Reminds Me

I recall a time many years ago one day we were watching television and Jimmy Swaggart was on there preaching and foaming at the mouth talking about the problem of girls who wear shorts and saying that mothers should teach their daughters not to wear shorts. My mother said to me, "He has a problem." My mother thought that a normal man would not be strutting across the platform and working himself into such a frenzy on such a topic. I am just saying what my mother said. Of course that was long ago, when we had newly arrived in Florida and long before Jimmy got so famous. Which is why it is so hard for me to understand the fascination that some people have with such a problem man. I am just saying what my mother said.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, they are hitting my account and I did not even think of writing a book about India. Helen Calkins, MK-India, did that but it was never published. I cannot imagine why not. Anyway, I never saw that or knew of its existence. Also, I was never in India or ever thought of going there so obviously I would not be able to comment.

Which Reminds Me

Shortly after college graduation I was working at Vida Publishers in Miami and one day Mr. Rentals was visiting there and that was where he mentioned to me their staffing needs at Red Stick but I did not apply there. Oh, did Alice the receptionist overhear that conversation? I really don't remember very much about that. Or maybe I mentioned this once or twice to whoever. Yet somehow it is interesting to note that later I was hearing messages from the Hoskins who imagine themselves having bought me a slave property to be used for their own family benefit. I find the Hoskins' slave joke utterly insipid and I do appreciate an opportunity to drive a stake through the empty heads of those involved. There is a hollowness there.

Which Reminds Me

Anyway, I wasn't expecting to hear from Harry ever in this lifetime. Harry is just a stupid cameraman as far as I can tell. Just because the college hired Harry to video your performance for the college, that did not give Harry any right to take that video out of the archival vaults and forward it to TBN offices where it could be held up to public ridicule by that gang of lunatics. As if. I don't really know whether Harry actually did that but that is one hypothetical scenario that has suggested itself to our minds given the idiotic rantings emanating from TV-Land. The videos didn't belong to Harry and it was none of Harry's business. Nobody asked Harry for his fully unsolicited opinion.

Which Reminds Me

Perhaps it would seem too sanctimonious to say this, but I am feeling sort of good that I never did succumb to the temptation that was dangled before me of submitting my resume to the Sleazily Swaggering camp of Luis y Ana. I never did that, although Mr. Rentals seemed so sincere when he spoke to me of their staff needs. Yet for some reason I somehow felt myself constrained not to apply for a place in that dismal swamp. We did feel a certain degree of pity for Mr. Head-Wall, whose prehistoric technology seems to leave him out of the loop in modern-day publishing circles. It seemed so cool in the 70s to have a room full of computers with huge spinning discs and blinking lights. But nowadays everyone has their own home computer. No longer do we have any need for a simple-minded Swedish clerk to laboriously code our documents by typewriter: for Bold, for Italic, for Underling, etc. My WYSIWYG editor does all the coding I need automatically without my ever having to think that much about it, thank you very much.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, someone may be trying to tell us that it is a long row to hoe, a long and winding road, a very complicated process involving a lot of time and money to take the crude out of the ground, refine it and put it in the gas pump for consumers such as myself to buy. Yes, how elementary, my Dear Watson. And 2 + 2 = 4. Yes, no one is arguing these minor details. No one will deny the fact that there are no easy answers. Were you expecting me to pull some answer out of a hat? Sorry but I never was any magician and I really have no idea how the gas and oil picture would work out in the end. I have no answers to questions about gas and oil nor did I ever suggest any. Enough said. Talk is cheap but money talks. Rich people may conquer in the end by killing time. Who knows how it should go?

And if the well is already capped and sealed, the task is doubly more complicated, in fact impossible perhaps. So whatever. Life is short. I have no more time for these imponderable reflections.

Which Reminds Me

Why do I have to live in this miserable state of Florida in such close proximity to all of these horrible people who I never liked anyway, those who always made my life so miserable , who only treated me like garbage? I would leave Florida in a heartbeat if I could afford to. Why should I be blamed for the sins committed by these dreary Florida people over whom I have no control and who refused to care about anything I ever said and who left me out in the cold? God in his Providence removed the Lampp from among us and all we can say is that perhaps it was for good that Florida lost its Lampp. How dare this shrill dog Andrea, the shrill Henry and Shirley, argue with the hand of Almighty God? Ultimately, it was God who extinguished the Lampp, not us. I was never interested in resuming the flickering Lampp dialogue, not that I ever really understood what that was all about. I was not tuned into that stuff back in the old days. I really wouldn't be able to explain or answer questions about that because I have no idea.

Which Reminds Me

I seem to remember that Rob attended the same college that I did but did not start there until at least three or four years after I had left. It is hard to imagine why I should care about Rob and whoever his college friends were. Rob always was a snooty pompous little rich kid. If Rob really likes living in India we would be happy to supply him with a one-way ticket to nowhere just to get him out of our life because we while we feel a certain degree of pity for these 'Untouchable Beggars' (where did I hear that joke?) we are also proud of our Horatio Alger schematics here in America, never having given India much thought, never having been to India, and thinking basically that India is much too late in the game to be telling us how our society ought to be organized when India has done such a lousy job for all these thousands of years. We will tell you. Or maybe we won't be telling you anything when it is really none of your business. We don't have "Brahmins" in America in the India sense although at times we have seen that word thrown around in some loose and mindlessly artistic sense. We really would not want anyone accusing us of trying to apply Hindu standards to American society when actually it was someone else who was guilty of trying to masquerade themselves as Brahmins. You know who you are.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, we did talk to some boys at other times during the junior high camp meeting at Pinecrest attended by Chari Ternball, Debby Laynge and other girls but I don't remember anything very specific. It is all very fuzzy in my mind. Is there something that I should be remembering about that because I really don't remember.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, it was a puzzling thought. What would I do if a guy I did not like would ask me out on a date? I would have to tell him that I only thought of him as a brother in the Lord, thus crushing his hopes and dreams of a life that included me. Well, it might seem a silly conversational piece for a 12-year-old but I must confess that I did say that and it might even be actually quite true when applied to the obnoxious Cederbloms, those guys who later often reminded me of this 12-year-old conversation with Sharri Turnbull and some other girls by often calling me their "Sister" in the Lord even though I actually don't recall discussing this with any boy. Ok, so, fine. My original comment stands.

Which Reminds Me

Yes, I really don't like the idea of being trampled upon by these crude and vulgar Italian dogs, as if there were anything reason for this nonsense. Um, not really. It is all politics, obviously. These Italians want to absorb us into their collective stupidity but I am not impressed. I will just die alone and unloved because I was robbed of my rightful choices.