IZIE "Growing up in a logging camp": Reality Intertrude Insert between Ch1 and Ch2
Reality intervenes
Since MS (Multiple Sclerosis) is doing such a good job of ravaging my mortal body, I thought it wise to start writing the story of my life. At the very least, to recall some parts of it that have had a significant impact on me becoming who I think I am. If I wait for someone else to write it – he won’t read me. If I put off starting any longer, I might not be able to remember my life – at all.
I guess it’s normal to want people to say nice things about you after you’re gone. Sometimes you can make a deal with them talking nice things about you – if you just go. Since I don’t have much to trade, I figure if I want some nice things to be said, I’d better say them myself.
I remember what I said once about a dog I had. “He never bit anyone…” I don’t remember biting anyone either. Another dog I adopted kissed everyone. Although I tried to do that too, I was never as well received as he was.
Cats don’t try to kiss you. They spend all their time licking. Many people I have met do this. Although many things are still within their power to achieve, they give up.
I learned that there is no shame in trying and failing. It was just a shame when I didn’t get to try. We all have our share of failures. No one else can have them all. If you’ve never failed, you’ve probably never tried the impossible, like being a good spouse or eating soup with a fork. Every time I try it, I get better at marriage.
In this story, I don’t think of changing the names. No one is so innocent that they need protection.
* * *
Izzy continued
Chapter two
We moved into Izee early on Saturday, into the house we had never seen the inside of. Mom followed us in the car, Dad commanded a borrowed pick-up truck with all our earthly possessions. This time Robert came with us to Izzy’s. As mom would explain to him the “Boarding Rules” for high school away from home, I rode with dad, thinking it was funny that my brother should eat more dirt than me, as we were followed along the miles of unpaved road Like dirt a phantom of planetary dust, Robert continued to climb out of the 52 Ford, extracting whatever blew away our loosely tied load. He looked even scarier when it started to rain.
[Continue on in Chapter Two if you still wish to read more.]
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