Before continuing to go down memory lane, I wanted to write a post about the dangers of posting your thoughts, uncensored, online. You never know who is going to read it. If you anticipate some repercussions, such as hurt feelings, revealing something that someone else would prefer be kept hidden, etc. then you should be careful and edit out the troublesome material. It doesn’t pay to just piss people off. It may feel good to rant and rave and get those feelings out, but keep in mind that people are reading your post. The internet isn’t a diary, it isn’t therapy, and it shouldn’t be there for the prurient voyeuristic curiosity of the average bonehead. (you hear that David? I have a friend named David that checks out my blog but doesn’t comment on anything, I think he just searches for anything that would satisfy his sick curiosity. Just email me, dude, I’ll tell you what you want to know.) Having said that, you still want to have an interesting and useful blog. Who wants to read a sugar-coated account of somebody’s life? Nobody. It is boring, and it doesn’t let you know anything about that person that is valuable. Especially if that person is your father, you want to get an honest account of how he really was, instead of a carefully crafted story designed not to offend, bland in every respect, like you would find in a family newsletter. I’m sorry, newsletter fans, but most family newsletters are recipes, pictures of kids and pets, accounts of things that mean a lot to you but not to the reader, nostalgic tales of an idyllic childhood, heart-warming stories, and more pictures of kids and pets, ad nauseam. No thanks! Of course, if I were married with a bunch of kids and pets I would feel differently, but I don’t know, I think even then, it would be pretty boring. Lawrence had a wife and kids and he was driven to distraction by the mindless chitchat his patrons at the barbershop engaged in. For once, he would have liked to hear something truly meaningful. I tried to explain that that was a barbershop tradition. You always make a comment on the weather, maybe mention something cute your kid or your dog did that day, or talk about the local high school football team. But the only thing Lawrence enjoyed about the barbering routine (besides the actual barbering), was playing checkers. He got to be pretty damn good at that game, But, anyway, you catch my drift. I want to write things that I would want to read. I admit that I like to stir things up upon occasion, and I am not above an off-color comment now and then (or every single sentence, given my mood). Which brings me to vulgarity. I write the way I talk, and it is a part of my personality. I don’t wish to offend, but oftentimes vulgar words can convey exactly what you want to say, and, admit it, folks!, it can make it more fun to read. My purpose, as pointed out in this blog over and over and over, is that I wish to wake people up, to keep it real. People prefer to look at the past through rose-colored glasses, and are prone to create a mythology about their family. My family was especially prone to that. That’s all fine, so long as you keep in mind that it is a mythology. I like to write a real, unvarnished account of how things were. I pay the price by digging up emotions within me that are often unpleasant, but for me that is more interesting than checking out some stupid tv show. Although it may not seem that way from how I write, there are many, many things I would never blog about. Some things are better left buried. I don’t care to satisfy someone’s idle curiosity, if that is all it is. I am not a completely open person, but almost. I want my recollections to perform a service, as well as entertain. I like it when it gives a son or a daughter a little better idea of who their father was. So, until I really start catching some flak from my family posts, I will continue. Thanks, again for all the comments. Now, please get a life!