Dear Wes Teel "Victim,"
You wrote: "Is a crook like Wes the best choice for Housekeeping Supervisor? This animal deserves nothing good." Well, by my reckoning, he has had nothing good. He has lost his job, his standing in the community, his reputation, his means of earning a living -- all on false claims. He has endured a heart attack and a triple bypass all alone without the comfort of a single family member or friend at his side. He has lost one son into the penal system. His wife has an incurable progressive auto-immune disease which causes the degeneration of her nervous system. And yet you begrudge one small ray of sunlight to shine into his life.

Do you not realize that this speaks volumes more about YOUR character than it does about Wes' character?

If you truly consider yourself to be a victim of Wes Teel, it is you YOURSELF who is making you the victim by storing up all the hatred and venom inside and letting it poison your life and spirit. Like Job, Wes will continue to endure his trials and tribulations with an accepting spirit, but you seem to be letting your bitterness eat you alive. How true is the adage that hating only hurts the hater!

The Sur-Realist has spoken.

Dear Readers,
Sorry it’s been so long without a word from the Sur-Realist about Wes. He is doing quite well and even got a promotion at the prison. When one fellow completed serving his sentence and was emancipated, Wes took over his job as Housekeeping Supervisor. He quite enjoys supervising the straightening up of the dormitory as it gives him a daily project.

His health has steadily improved since his bypass surgery. He he has done the walking and exercises, and he has followed the cardio diet (as much as possible under the circumstances) to restore his health as best he can. Wes reports he has lost weight. He probably looks fit and trim - I haven’t been able to go to Atlanta to visit although his wife has been able to make a couple of visits.

The BIG news is that the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals will hear the oral arguments for the three men - Wes Teel, Paul Minor, and John Whitfield - on April 1st, 2009, in Austin, TX. Wes’ attorney was surprised today to learn that the appeal would be in Austin rather than New Orleans when I called to let him know. George Lucas told me that possible outcomes include reversing Wes’ conviction. Naturally, this is what we would all like to see happen. Another possibility would be that Wes could be re-sentenced in which case he may be released for time served. Another possibility would be a re-trial. Please join with me in praying for the absolute best outcome.
I am the Sur-Realist, and I approve this message.

White Guilt is Dead

This came to me in an email. I don't know in what publication this appeared, but every American should read it. The Sur-Realist salutes the author, Tom Adkins and hopes he won't mind that I shared it with both of my readers.


Subject: Article Written byTom Adkins


By Tom Adkins
Look at my fellow conservatives! There they go, glumly shuffling along, depressed by the election aftermath. Not me. I'm virtually euphoric. Don't get me wrong. I'm not thrilled with America 's flirtation with neo socialism. But there's a massive silver lining in those magical clouds that lofted Barak Obama to the Presidency. For today, without a shred of intellectually legitimate opposition, I can loudly proclaim to America : The Era of White Guilt is over.

This seemingly impossible event occurred because the vast majority of white Americans didn't give a fluff about skin color, and enthusiastically pulled the voting lever for a black man.. Not just any black man. A very liberal black man who spent his early career race-hustling banks, praying in a racist church for 20 years, and actively worked with America-hating domestic terrorists. Wow! Some resume! Yet they made Barak Obama their leader. Therefore, as of Nov 4th, 2008, white guilt is dead.

For over a century, the millstone of white guilt hung around our necks, retribution for slave-owning predecessors. In the 60s, American liberals began yanking that millstone while sticking a fork in the eye of black Americans, exacerbating the racial divide to extort a socialist solution. But if a black man can become President, exactly what significant barrier is left? The election of Barak Obama absolutely destroys the entire validation of liberal white guilt. The dragon is hereby slain.

So today, I'm feeling a little "uppity," if you will. From this day forward, my tolerance level for having my skin color hustled is now exactly ZERO. And it's time to clean house. No more Reverend Wright's "God Damn America ," Al Sharpton's Church of Perpetual Victimization , or Jesse Jackson's rainbow racism. Cornell West? You're a fraud. Go home. All those "black studies" programs that taught kids to hate whitey? You must now thank Whitey. And I want that on the final.

Congressional Black Caucus? Irrelevant. Maxine Waters? Shut up. ACORN? Outlawed. Black Panthers? Go home and pet your kitty. Black separatists? Find another nation that offers better dreams. Go ahead. I'm waiting.
Gangsta rappers? Start praising America . Begin with the Pledge of Allegiance. And please…no more ebonics. Speak English, and who knows where you might end up? Oh, yeah…pull up your pants. Your underwear is showing. You look stupid.

To those Eurosnots who forged entire careers hating America ? I'm still waiting for the first black French President.

And let me offer an equal opportunity whupping. I've always despised lazy white people. Now, I can talk smack about lazy black people. You're poor because you quit school, did drugs, had three kids with three different fathers, and refuse to work. So when you plop your Colt 45-swilling, Oprah watchin' butt on the couch and complain "Da Man is keepin' me down," allow me to inform you: Da Man is now black. You have no excuses.

No more quotas. No more handouts. No more stealing my money because someone's great-great-great-great grandparents suffered actual pain and misery at the hands of people I have no relation to, and personally revile.

It's time to toss that massive, obsolete race-hustle machine upon the heap of the other stupid 60s ideas. Drag it over there, by wife swapping, next to dope-smoking. Plenty of room right between free love and cop-killing. Careful…don't trip on streaking. There ya go, don't be gentle. Just dump it. Wash your hands. It's filthy.

In fact, Obama's ascension created a gargantuan irony. How can you sell class envy and American unfairness when you and your black wife went to Ivy League schools, got high-paying jobs, became millionaires, bought a mansion, and got elected President? How unfair is that??? Now, Like a delicious O'Henry tale, Obama's spread-the-wealth campaign rendered itself moot by it's own victory! America is officially a meritocracy. Obama's election has validated American conservatism!

So, listen carefully…Wham!!!
That's the sound of my foot kicking the door shut on the era of white guilt. The rites have been muttered, the carcass lowered, dirt shoveled, and tombstone erected. White guilt is dead and buried.

However, despite my glee, there's apparently one small, rabid bastion of American racism remaining. Black Americans voted 96% for Barak Obama. Hmmm. In a color-blind world, shouldn't that be 50-50? Tonight, every black person should ask forgiveness for their apparent racism and prejudice towards white people. Maybe it's time to start spreading the guilt around.

Election Manipulation Prediction

On or about October 5th, Joe Biden will excuse himself from the ticket,citing health problems. He will be replaced by Hillary as the candidate for Vice President. This is timed to occur after the VP debate on 10/2. Perhaps Obama finally realized that he made a mistake with his choice and now wants to renege. There have been talks all weekend about how to proceed with this information about the potential switch.

Generally, the feeling is that we should all go ahead and get it out there to as many blog sites and personal email lists as is possible. Watch for blurbs about Biden’s "health problem" such aneurysm. Probably many of you have heard the same rumblings. However, at this point, with this inside info from the DNC, it looks like this Obama strategy will be a go. Therefore, it seems that the best strategy is to get out in front of this obama maneuver, spell it out in detail, and thereby expose it for the grand manipulation that it is. Hillary would be an idiot to let herself be used that way; if she wasn’t good enough first time . . . . . Isn’t it interesting how desperate they are getting now that Sarah Palin has come on the scene?

NOBAMA'S "NOT EXACTLY'S"

1.) Selma Got Me Born - NOT EXACTLY, your parents felt safe enough to have you in 1961 - Selma had no effect on your birth, as Selma was in 1965. (Google' Obama Selma ' for his full March 4, 2007 speech and articles about its various untruths)
2.) Father Was A Goat Herder - NOT EXACTLY, he was a privileged, well educated youth, who went on to work with the Kenyan Government.
3.) Father Was A Proud Freedom Fighter - NOT EXACTLY, he was part of one of the most corrupt and violent governments Kenya has ever had.
4.) My Family Has Strong Ties To African Freedom - NOT EXACTLY, your cousin Raila Odinga has created mass violence in attempting to overturn a legitimate election in 2007, in Kenya It is the first widespread violence in decades. The current government is pro-American but Odinga wants to overthrow it and establish Muslim Sharia law. Your half-brother, Abongo Obama, is Odinga's follower. You interrupted your New Hampshire campaigning to speak to Odinga on the phone. Obama's cousin Odinga in Kenya ran for president and tried to get Sharia muslim law in place there. When Odinga lost the elections, his followers have burned Christians' homes and then burned men, women and children alive in a Christian church where they took shelter.. Obama SUPPORTED his cousin before the election process here started. Google Obama and Odinga and see what you get. No one wants to know the truth.
5.) My Grandmother Has Always Been A Christian - NOT EXACTLY, she does her daily Salat prayers at 5am according to her own interviews. Not to mention, Christianity wouldn't allow her to have been one of 14 wives to 1 man.
6.) My Name is African Swahili - NOT EXACTLY, your name is Arabic and 'Baraka' (from which Barack came) means ftline'blessed' in that language. Hussein is also Arabic and so is Obama.Barack Hussein Obama is not half black. If elected, he would be the first Arab-American President, not the first black President. Barack Hussein Obama is 50% Caucasian from his mother's side and 43.75% Arabic and 6.25% African Negro from his father's side. While Barack Hussein Obama's father was from Kenya , his father's family was mainly Arabs.. Barack Hussein Obama's father was only 12..5% African Negro and 87.5% Arab (his father's birth certificate even states he's Arab, not African Negro). From....and for more....go to....
7.) I Never Practiced Islam - NOT EXACTLY, you practiced it daily at school, where you were registered as a Muslim and kept that faith for 31 years, until your wife made you change, so you could run for office.4-3-08 Article "Obama was 'quite religious in islam'"
8.) My School In Indonesia was Christian - NOT EXACTLY, you were registered as Muslim there and got in trouble in Koranic Studies for making faces (check your own book).February 28, 2008. Kristoff from the New York Times a year ago: Mr. Obama recalled the opening lines of the Arabic call to prayer, reciting them with a first-rate accent. In a remark that seemed delightfully uncalculated (it'll give Alabama voters heart attacks), Mr. Obama described the call to prayer as "one of the prettiest sounds on Earth at sunset." This is just one example of what Pamela is talking about when she says "Obama's narrative is being altered, enhanced and manipulated to whitewash troubling facts."
9.) I Was Fluent In Indonesian - NOT EXACTLY, not one teacher says you could speak the language.
10.) Because I Lived In Indonesia , I Have More Foreign Experience - NOT EXACTLY, you were there from the ages of 6 to 10, and couldn't even speak the language. What did you learn, how to study the Koran and watch cartoons.
11.) I Am Stronger On Foreign Affairs - NOT EXACTLY, except for Africa (surprise) and the Middle East (bigger surprise), you have never been anywhere else on the planet and thus have NO experience with our closest allies.
12.) I Blame My Early Drug Use On Ethnic Confusion - NOT EXACTLY, you were quite content in high school to be Barry Obama, no mention of Kenya and no mention of struggle to identify - your classmates said you were just fine.
13.) An Ebony Article Moved Me To Run For Office - NOT EXACTLY, Ebony has yet to find the article you mention in your book. It doesn't, and never did, exist.
14.) A Life Magazine Article Changed My outlook on Life - NOT EXACTLY, Life has yet to find the article you mention in your book. It doesn't, and never did, exist.
15.) I Won't Run On A National Ticket In '08 - NOT EXACTLY, here you are, despite saying, live on TV,that you would not have enough experience by then, and you are all about having experience first.
16.) Voting "Present" is Common In Illinois Senate - NOT EXACTLY, they are common for YOU, but not many others have 130 NO VOTES.
17.) Oops, I Misvoted - NOT EXACTLY, only when caught by church groups and Democrats, did you beg to change your misvote.
18.) I Was A Professor Of Law - NOT EXACTLY, you were a senior lecturer ON LEAVE.
19.) I Was A Constitutional Lawyer - NOT EXACTLY, you were a senior lecturer ON LEAVE.
20.) Without Me, There Would Be No Ethics Bill - NOT EXACTLY, you didn't write it, introduce it, change it, or create it.
21.) The Ethics Bill Was Hard To Pass - NOT EXACTLY, it took just 14 days from start to finish.
22.) I Wrote A Tough Nuclear Bill - NOT EXACTLY, your bill was rejected by your own party for its pandering and lack of all regulation - mainly because of your Nuclear donor, Exelon, from which David Axelrod came.
23.) I Have Released My State Records - NOT EXACTLY, as of March, 2008, state bills you sponsored or voted for have yet to be released, exposing all the special interests pork hidden within.
24.) I Took On The Asbestos Altgeld Gardens Mess - NOT EXACTLY, you were part of a large group of people who remedied Altgeld Gardens . You failed to mention anyone else but yourself, in your books.
25.) My Economics Bill Will Help America - NOT EXACTLY, your 111 economic policies were just combined into a proposal which lost 99-0, and even YOU voted against your own bill.
26.) I Have Been A Bold Leader In Illinois - NOT EXACTLY, even your own supporters claim to have not seen BOLD action on your part.
27.) I Passed 26 Of My Own Bills In One Year - NOT EXACTLY, they were not YOUR bills, but rather handed to you, after their creation by a fellow Senator, to assist you in a future bid for higher office.
28.) No One on my campaign contacted Canada about NAFTA - NOT EXACTLY, the Candian Government issued the names and a memo of the conversation your campaign had with them.
29.) I Am Tough On Terrorism - NOT EXACTLY, you missed the Iran Resolution vote on terrorism and your good friend Ali Abunimah supports the destruction of Israel .
30.) I Want All Votes To Count - NOT EXACTLY, you said let the delegates decide.
31.) I Want Americans To Decide - NOT EXACTLY, you prefer caucuses that limit the vote, confuse the voters, force a public vote, and only operate during small windows of time.
32.) I passed 900 Bills in the State Senate - NOT EXACTLY, you passed 26, most of which you didn't write yourself.
33.) I Believe In Fairness, Not Tactics - NOT EXACTLY, you used tactics to eliminate Alice Palmer from running against you.
34.) I Don't Take PAC Money - NOT EXACTLY, you take loads of it.
35.) I don't Have Lobbysists - NOT EXACTLY, you have over 47 lobbyists, and counting.
36.) My Campaign Had Nothing To Do With The 1984 Ad - NOT EXACTLY, your own campaign worker made the ad on his Apple in one afternoon.
37.) I Have Always Been Against Iraq - NOT EXACTLY, you weren't in office to vote against it AND you have voted to fund it every single time.
38.) I Have Always Supported Universal Health Care - NOT EXACTLY, your plan leaves us all to pay for the 15,000,000 who don't have to buy it.
GOD HELP US IF WE JUST SIT IDLY BY AND LET THIS PERSON BECOME OUR NEXT PRESIDENT. IT WOULD BE SUICIDAL FOR US TO DO NOTHING TO PREVENT THIS FROM HAPPENING. PASS THIS ON TO ALL THE ONES YOU VALUE, JUST AS I AM DOING. IT'S TIME THE "SILENT MAJORITY" TAKE A STAND! GET OUT AND VOTE! PLEASE!

A Visit From the Past

After returning from our non-eventful evacuation to avoid Gustav, we hauled the 650 lbs of photos back into the house, it occurred to me that I have been living in avoidance long enough. Ever since Katrina I have vowed to scan all of the photos into the computer, get them on to DVDs, store those in various locations, and finally quit worrying about trying to save these thousands of photographs. However, vowing to do is not the same thing as doing. But this time when we returned home I took stock of my time wastage and determined that I waste at least an hour before leaving for the office every morning just frittering it away playing computer games. So I started the daunting task of eating the elephant - dismantling the photo books page by page to scan every photograph individually. Here’s some advice in case you should ever have some reason to have to study your youthful photos at great length while waiting for the scanner to do its thing: don’t be sitting near a mirror. Unless you happen to be wearing a paper bag over your head with eye holes cut out.

In between the pages of photos, I discovered a letter written on 28 November, 1862, by Sarah Ann Slade, born 7 September, 1839, to her husband Plummer Ladner. Plummer Ladner was born in Hancock County on 18 January, 1835, the son of Carlos and Anna Rester Ladner. Plummer and Sarah married in Marion County on 15 September, 1859, but they made their home in Hancock County (Salem Community) where they farmed and raised stock. Sarah gave birth there to Butler on 9/9/1860 and to Theodocia Elizabeth on 1/22/1863. Plummer served with the 7th Batt Miss Infantry during the Civil War and was killed while in service on 8 February, 1864. It is believed that he was killed and buried in or near the vicinity of his home by northern marauders. (That would be Yankees.) Here is Sarah’s letter to Plummer:

My Dear Husband,
I received your kind letter you sent after Rutilous got with you. (Rutilous was Plummer’s brother and was married to Sarah’s sister, Elizabeth. He died suddenly on 2/21/1863.) I was very sorry to hear that you were sick, but I cannot expect to hear nothing else while you are in the Army. I am well. Well as can be, I can never say that I am ever right. Well, Butler is fat and hearty. He grows fast. He can talk. Oh, he is so much company to me. When I ask him where you are he will point the way to go and say, "Pa gone way yunder."

Oh, Plummer, I wish you could come home to see us once more. You said you had a good notion to come any how as they would not let you off. Oh, Plummer, I would be glad to see you anyhow, see you anyway you can come. But I can not persuade you to desert. You know best what to do. I know if I was in your place and they would not let me off, I would want to desert too. But I do not know what is best. It looks like they would let you come home now. Oh, Plummer, if you could be with me when I am confined, I would be better satisfied. Oh, Plummer, I wish I could go to see you. No chance for me to go now, but I hope you can come home. Cpt. ___ is gone back. I think he will shortly let you off.

Steed Calvar got out of beef. He sent Elijah up after beef. Elijah (Plummer’s brother) came to see me and Jeremiah (another of Plummer’s brothers) to see about selling your beef. Jeremiah concluded to take some of your beef. They got six head of yours. I reckon they will take more the next time. Elijah went to see if Shaw would take the money you owed him. He refused to take it. I would not care if he got one cent of it.

Pappy and Mama has been sick. They are both mending, the last I heard from them. All the rest of the family is well, I believe. I haven’t received one letter from George yet. Pappy got some letter from the boys. They were all well. Oh, Plummer, you don’t know how dear you are to me. I could not help crying from your letter where you said you kissed mine and Butler’s hair. Oh, Plummer, I wish it could have been me instead of my hair. Oh, Plummer, you don’t know how it hurts my feelings to think you want to see me so bad and cannot come to see me. Oh, Plummer, ain’t this too hard to think we love as well as we do and have to be parted. Oh, Plummer, I look at your likeness and shed tears. To think maybe I shall never see you again. I wish I had my likeness to send to you. Plummer, if you don’t come home, soon as I get able to go, I will go to see you if you are alive. Plummer I know you love me dearly but try and not grieve yourself any more than you can help. I hope and pray the Lord will be with us. I hope these few lines will find you well. Oh, Plummer, I cannot write all I want to tell you, but I reckon these lines will give you satisfaction, so I must quit. So goodbye, Plummer. I remain your true loving wife. I will remember you, Plummer. Three kisses for you, Sarah Ladner.

Dr. Henry Clay Abney served with the Confederate Army until his capture. He was held prisoner in Vicksburg, MS, until his release in 1865. After the War, probably about 1867, the widow Sarah Slade Ladner married Dr. Henry Clay Abney, and they became my great-great-grand parents. (But I still don't know where that damn Be-AT-triss came from.)

Beatrice's Foot

Beatrice’s (pronounced Bee-AT-triss) foot has long been a discussion of gleeful humor around our house, and shame on us for it. Beatrice was my great-grand-mother’s niece which makes her my twice-baked potato’s next door neighbor’s cousin by marriage, once removed. Her brother’s name was Brainard. What kind of parents would name their supposedly beloved children such names? And if her name were not tragedy enough, one day the poor dear child was sent to the store.

Her second tragedy happened back in the day when females wore high buttoned shoes. They had to be fastened with button hooks which required a bit of dexterity as well as quite a bit of time. On this lovely sunny afternoon, Beatrice was happily skipping home with her basket of goods from the store. She started across the railroad tracks when she discovered that her shoe had become caught somehow under the rail. "Oh, drat!," said Beatrice as she tried to pull her foot loose from under the track to no avail. Wagons continued to cross at the crossing, but no on noticed the little girl struggling to free her foot. Suddenly she heard the familiar throaty whistle of the train approaching the little town. It always sounded its whistle at the bend just at the edge of town to warn everyone to clear the crossing. Beatrice became frantic, twisting and tugging her leg to free her foot. Tears streaming down her cheeks through the dust on her face, she started fumbling to unbutton her high buttoned shoe, hoping that she could free herself that way. As the train neared, her terror grew proportionately, and Beatrice worked even more frantically to free her foot from the rail.

The train chugged on relentlessly toward Beatrice, shushing steam out of its wheels and mingling its screaming whistle with her screams of fear and frustration. By that time she could feel the thundering vibrations in the ground and the rails. Finally a couple of men doing business in town that day realized that the child was not getting out of the way of the oncoming train and actually seemed to be floundering on the track doing something with her shoe! The men ran toward Beatrice, hoping to reach her before the train moving inexorably toward her hit her small body sitting there on the tracks sobbing in terror. They reached her just in time to grab her arms and pull her backwards. They felt the wind of the powerful locomotive rushing past them as the three of them fell backwards into the dirt and safely away from the train. Beatrice had been save. Everything, that is, but the front half of her foot. The poor little dear.

No doubt this horrible event traumatized Beatrice. Remember, she was my great-grandmother’s niece, so by the time I knew Beatrice, she was 769.5 years old and had the personality and temperament of Torquemada*. Beatrice had a habit of visiting Mama, my great-grandmother, to give two-week demonstrations of "How to Be Lazy Without Guilt." Mama was even older than Beatrice but too much of a Southern hostess ever to complain. Despite Mama’s infirmities, every day she made a huge dinner (that’s lunch to our non-Southerner readers), and we sat around listening to family stories and to Beatrice’s vituperations. (That’s sort of like rattlesnake spit.)

She had a mean spirit that tried to wither the joy out of everyone around her. No doubt this came from having been named Bee-AT-triss. She should have been glad she wasn’t named Birtha. (Yes, I know how to spell it, but it looks even worse this way.) The elderlys and I had little enough joy as it was. There wasn’t that much to wither, but she managed. For example, one of the elderlys had been widowed young and had raised her two young sons and even put them through college by working as a seamstress at home. She had lost a good bit of her hearing as a child due to measles. As a young woman, she lost part of the little finger of her right hand in an accident. In front of her, my favorite elderly, in quite a loud whisper Beatrice said to me, "I just can’t stand people with nubs." Beatrice said that. Beatrice of all people. The one who was half a foot short. As the family story goes (and unfortunately I have total amnesia for this historic moment), I turned to Beatrice, smiled sweetly, and slapped her face with all my might. She grabbed her stinging red face and demanded to know why I had slapped her, and I replied, "Why, Beatrice, you had a mosquito on your face." Strangely, after that she quit tormenting me every day. Even more strangely, I didn’t get punished by the elderlys. Under ordinary circumstances, that act would have merited being sent to the dreaded Catholics, the worst punishment anyone could imagine.

But she also unwittingly provided some entertainment. Back in those days we had no car and we certainly had no television. Entertainment was scarce except for radio programs. At the time, I was just a little moppet with blonde ringlets, big green eyes, and an insatiable curiosity. Growing up among only elderlys, all of whom were two and three generations older warped my tiny little mind and made me the ghoul, I mean girl. I am today. Somehow Beatrice still managed to find those high buttoned shoes and wore them with her dungarees. (Look it up if you are too young to know what dungarees are.) It happened that the bedroom opened off the dining room, and after dinner, Beatrice was so terribly tired from all of that nothing-doing that she just had to lie down to take a nap. Oh, God! To me, that was like starting up the lottery ball spinner, and if all the balls fell into place, I would hit the jackpot. The jackpot being – getting to see Beatrice’s foot! I lived to see Beatrice’s foot! That was to be the pivotal experience of my very young life.

As she lay down, I leaned over the table and became uncharacteristically enraptured by the conversation at the end of the table closest to the bedroom, but really staring between the talkers to watch Beatrice because I knew she took off her shoes to take a nap. Well, it turns out that in the ever-so-long litany of "Ladies Don’t" rules, forgetting one’s self and actually climbing onto the table to get a better view of Beatrice’s foot might just top that list. With a great deal of harrumping and disapproval, the elderlys bade me to sit in that chair like a lady. In case you did not attend Boot Camp for Ladies, one was required to sit up straight and not let one’s back touch the back of the chair - a curse that still haunts me today. And also to be seen and not heard - that was required of all children. So, I sat quietly, not touching the back of my chair, waiting for the elderlys to immerse themselves in their conversation once again, and quietly slithered downward underneath the table. I tried to peer through the forest of legs, and after a while, there they were – Beatrice’s feet hanging off the bed! But the bitch had left her shoes on! Just about that time, the elderlys discovered my absence and called me, I stood up, bumped by head, upset all the coffee on table and would have said "damn," if I had known the word. Throughout her whole visit I stalked Beatrice’s foot day after day to no avail. Now that I am old myself, I can go ahead and say it. Damn! I never ever got to see Beatrice’s foot.

Once Spouse and I were walking in a large city and passed a shoe repair shop and what did we see in the window but a size 12 plaster foot. We had to get that for our daughter in memory of all the giggling and sputtering our family had done about Beatrice over the years. Daughter opened it as a Christmas gift in front of her friends, and for some reason, they just couldn’t understand why her parents would give her a huge ugly plaster foot for Christmas.

*Torquemada: The Grand Inquisitor of the Spanish Inquisition - famous for his tormenting and torturing of imprisoned Heretics.