Yes, speaking of Seattle, I am again reminded of the existence of Mercer Island, a place where the Calkins Hotel was destroyed by fire in 1908. So what about that? There was nothing remaining, everything was gone. Besides which, the owner was C. C. Calkins, Charles, not us. There was no reason for us to go to the state of Washington to find nothing, actually. My Dad's relatives had a farm somewhere up there, maybe Oregon, but who knows where they are now. I am not sure that I ever met them anyway, much less did I ever make acquaintance of this irrelevant unknown stranger named Jessica, to whom I have zero connection whatsoever. Blah blah blah. The way they talk, observers might get the mistaken impression that we are acquainted. Actually not. That was not us. How many times do I have to conduct brain surgery, so as to explain to the idiot riff-raff people of Michigan that there is no money. I have no jobs for them.
