Dear DB and all you other lovely folks~
You know, i was just starting to get the hang of long-white-cloud-eze and you suddenly turn into a Chicago gangster. A whole new language to try to fathom out, you really are hard on walruses.
As for remembering those past and present, you are right, and gain immense please from those I know who are still in the land of the living, but am fortunate in being able too look back on the antics of the first Mrs Croix with genuine pleasure, and even on occasions reflect on how she would have advised me about something I'd planned or was worrying about.
I'm also blessed that the Mrs Croix who joined me was able to accept she was following in footsteps, but that in a surprisingly short time came to realize I saw here completely and there were no footsteps to follow or try to emulate, in other words she became genuinely secure.
This is no small thing and many would still have a little patch of worry, happily not so here. I do have only one golden rule, if asked something about her predecessor I have an attack of the selective memories and do not answer but emulate your gangster friends when being cross examined in the witness box and say "I forget" and plead the 5th:)
As you say, a bit of a morbid subject, I'm not going anywhere and will be trying to avoid your and Grandy's attempts at music for years to come. Have the pair of you considered mime as a substitute -a pair of Marcel Marceas, or even Morris Mimers, would be just fine.
I can see how being able to harness you BP mood shits to have the energy and creativity without going overboard, together with no downs, would be a great thing, sadly I'm not sure anyone has ever manged that. Still many famous have achieved wonderful and things, from Frank Sinatra to the gentlman missing an ear, Vincent van Gogh,
Come to think of it Frank would probably understand your Chicago tongue straight away.
How's the back, is it a truce at the moment?
Croix