Journal Entries

B4 - NaJoPoMo 5 Nov 2011 - Suicidal Tendencies

smiley - bluelight
This Journal Entry is somber and contains graphic images; be prepared, or stop reading now.
smiley - bluelight

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Jake had just climbed into his Ranger and was about to start the truck when he got her text message.

[Need U 2 pick me up @ home can U swing by??]

He heaved a sigh and responded.

[Broke up remember]

There was a moment's pause, then another incoming message.

[IMPORTANT one last time I promise]

[K B there in 5]

He stuck the phone in his pocket and cranked the engine. He pulled out of the driveway, skirting around his Dad's truck and his Mom's van. He could make it to Blake's house easily in five minutes and have both of them to the High School on time for classes. "As long as she doesn't start another argument about me dumping her," he thought. "I'll just keep it quiet, even if she wants to talk, but this ~better~ be the last time she asks for a ride."

He navigated the few streets between their families' homes and arrived in less than five minutes. Blake's parents were already at their respective jobs, even this early in the day, so the driveway was empty. He pulled in, stopped the truck, and got out, leaving the motor running. "This better be quick," he grumbled.

With a rising deliberation to get this whole thing over with, Jake marched to the front door of the house. The lilac colored and flower print stationary sheet taped to the front door stopped him from rapping his knuckles on the door. He read Blake's handwritten note addressed to him.

{Jake,
smiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spaceI really really wish you would've reconsidered breaking up with me. I thought we were so good with each other and I thought you felt the same way. I can't forget some of the things you said to me and I can't forgive how you've thrown away our love. Since you've decided to throw away all we've had together, I'm going to throw something away, too. If you want to save anything, come find me.
smiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spacesmiley - spaceBlake}

Jake stood dumb-founded for a moment, then knocked hard on the front door. There was no answer. He tried the doorknob at the same time he banged his fist harder on the door, and shouted, "Blake! Blake, are you there? Open the door, Blake!" He paused and listened. No sounds of anyone even attempting to come answer the door. "Oh, not good, not good, not—" He dashed around the side of the house, flew across the back lawn, bounded up the steps of the wooden deck, and practically collided with the door frame. He snatched at the handle of the sliding glass door; it moved an inch, but his fingers slipped off, so he had to try again.

His second attempt caused the glass door to rattle in its tracks when he flung it open. He made a beeline for the stairway in the center of the house. He took three stairs at a time. Blake's bedroom was just at the head of the stairs, one door back to the right. Jake grabbed the upright of the handrail and slung himself around to head for her door. He saw it was ajar, so he ran headlong at it, slamming both palms into it. It slowed him enough so he stood panting in the doorway.

There was blood. Lots of blood…and other things…on the wall behind her bed, on the side tables, in the corner of the ceiling and a few feet toward the air vent. Blake's body lay back upon her bed, her arms and legs flopped in odd angles. A shotgun sat with its butt upon the floor and its barrel resting against the calf of her left leg. The scent of cordite and gunpowder hung in the air.

"Blake-Blake-Blake! No-no-no-no-no…" Jake rushed to the bed and pulled her lifeless body to his chest. He looked at her face, her beautiful young face that had always worn a smile and graced the world with sparkling bright eyes. Her eyes, though still open, were already dull and lifeless. Now her mouth was pulled slightly to one side because the muzzle flash and pellets yanked things askew on the way through. Jake noted that her hair, normally brunette and combed straight, was disheveled and tinged in red. As he looked down upon her head, he saw a portion of the back of her head was completely gone, hair and all. He glanced up and saw strands of it clinging to the wall above the headboard of her bed.

"Oh no. Oh no. No-no…" He let her slip from his grasp, back onto the bed, and fished out his cell phone. There was now blood around his pants pocket and on the casing of his phone. Jake activated his contacts list and slid down to Blake's parents' name. He tapped the entry and saw it begin dialing, though the clear touchpad was now fingerprinted and smeared in red streaks.

"Oh, please." The return tone rang once. "Oh, Blake." It rang a second time. "Oh, God." It rang a third time, and her Dad answered. "Mister-- Oh. Mister Sh--"

"Jake, is that you? What's wrong?"

"There's been an accident…at your house…it's Blake…" he whimpered the last bit, and broke out in sobs.

"Son, stay right there. I'll be there in minutes. You stay put, you hear?"

"Yessir…" It was a plaintive cry and ended in another round of heaving sobs.

"Do I need to call an ambulance, Jake?"

"Oh. Oh, Mister Sh--. Oh, it's so… No… It's too late…" Jake began to wail uncontrollably.

"Oh, Lord… Jake. Jake? Jake! Be still. I'm on my way and I'll call 9-1-1 on my way, but you stay with her, you understand?"

"Okay… I will. I'll stay by her… Oh. Oooh-hh-hh…"

For the rest of the morning there were sirens and flashing lights around the home of a young high school student who never had the chance to graduate, to go to college and learn a career, to marry a good husband, to raise a family of her own, or to enjoy the blessings of grandchildren.

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This is a true story from the town where I live, right in the Heartland of America. It happened in September of this year, just as the school year was starting. Beyond the obituary in the local paper, I've gotten the gist of this from a young man I work with, who knew both these kids and some of the details of that morning. I must advise you the dramatic details I've added hit very close to the mark, though they are my rendering of the incident.

We're seeing too many of these incidents in our present day. It seems to me the younger generation is in such a hurry with ~everything~ that they convince themselves there's no time for ~anything~ to go wrong without it jeopardizing "life as we know it." Have we, as parents and as a society, missed imbuing them with even the slightest bit of patience? Do we allow them to think that ~every~ activity in their lives hinges on their instant gratification? Haven't we instilled in them the understanding "everything that humans do takes time" and some processes take years, not the interval between commercial breaks, to run their course? Have we told them often enough, "things have a way of working out?" Maybe we should do so.

Perhaps it's more a matter of social stigmata or peer pressure that caused this young girl to consider suicide. Why not do it, if your whole world is dependent upon what others think of the image you present in public? How could one reasonably want to live, knowing a drastic change in their lifestyle would generate all sorts of unkind rumors; the kind one would be too embarrassed to ever deal with or to set the record straight? After all, who'd want to have to explain a family set-back to their friends; how could one mitigate a shift in their parents/ economic status without feeling like a laughingstock? And, Lord please, never let them have to try to rationalize why their dating relationship didn't work out because the personalities involved didn't work well together!

I have a confession: I almost committed suicide when I was a teenager. When I thought to "off" myself, I was feeling down and out about a whole slew of different things. Do I remember what issues were troubling me so much at that time in my life? No. I do recall it seemed too much to bear, though. I sat in my room late one evening, at my desk, and made a list of all the things bugging me. I wrote them all down on a piece of lined school notepaper, and the volume of perceived unconscionable issues filled it from top to bottom. I had a red felt-tip pen at my desk and I used it to doodle a "cut" across my left wrist. I set my arm down on the desktop, then drew a trail of blood that grew wider across the list of grievances. I sat there for a long time, considering what to do next. From somewhere, a very quiet still small voice asked this question: "What happens tomorrow?" I didn't have a ready answer. All I knew was I would never find out if I didn't stick around to see the next day. I threw the paper away, so I'd never have to think along those lines again, and I washed off my wrist. I've never been back to that place again.

Shock you? If you're a bit older it might have, because suicide didn't seem to be as prevalent in "my day." If you're very young, it might have sounded like "just par for the course." Am I making wild assumptions about the difference in generations here? Look, I recognize the teenage years are kinda tough, no matter what era the youngster grows up in. Yet in every day and time, we can expect to have problems with parents, with friends, with finances, with love relationships, with people at school or at work, with strangers who vent upon us for no apparent reason, with events or situations wherein we have little or no control. And it's never a matter of what just happened to us that counts; it's how we react to the situation that determines the outfall of the tribulation.

There are, after all, consequences to our words and actions. But the thing that comes ~first~ is our thoughts. If we'll simply rein in our thoughts and guide them properly, we're less likely to make an egregious mistake that affects many people (including ourselves) in a bad way. Think of the detrimental outcome to your closest loved ones, to the friends who won't understand why you chose this route, or to the gaping hole your absence leaves in the "possible history" of this intriguing world we live in. It still comes down to "what happens next…"

Consider for a moment, what H2G2 would be like without the presence of B4, if I'd actually gone through with killing myself. Who else would've done the silly "tagline pun" like I do it? Would the Salon at Lil's Atelier ~ever~ have been stretched to twice the width of a normal monitor screen? Would Titania's keyboard need to have been replaced with a virtual keyboard, if not for the off-color humor that caused a spray of wine? Who could possibly have played Toasty the Snowman with such icy light-heartedness while Fetching the Goo Spruce? Burl Ives wasn't available. Who else could've pulled off the massive five-persona "reveal" during the Holiday Pantomime's award ceremony as well as I did? Only TJ, and he is me. Who else would have been the "one more voice of consolation" for Hypatia, who also launched a bundle of balloons in memorium of her loss? Yes, you're starting to see the pattern. Who else could have an "on again/off again" relationship with HooToo for almost nine years, to finally determine it is one of the most intellectually stimulating forums for on-line conversations and, therefore, should bear more attention and cultivation? Me. And…wait for it…You. What would "we" be without our interactions here? My gut tells me it would be something less. Without You, without me, it wouldn't be the same.

We need to help all our friends—young, old, in-between—who even suggest an 'inkling' they might consider suicide as an option versus living in adversity. Let's "be there" for them, to discuss it, to find out why, to dissuade them, to help them persevere and prevail to the other side of tribulation, so they see "what happens next."
smiley - brave
B4welose1moreprecioussoultoahastydecision

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Latest reply: Nov 5, 2011

B4 - NaJoPoMo 4 Nov 2011 - My Sister's Birthday

smiley - zen
[B4 is sitting in his study, in a large comfortable wing-backed chair. Between him and the other empty wing-backed chair is a small round end table, bedecked with a doily. A small circle of light, cast by a brass standing lamp, falls upon the table and the seats. A cheerful fire crackles in the stone hearth in the far wall, adding a warm ambience to the room and throwing shifting highlights onto writing desks situated on either side. The other two walls are built-in wooden shelves laden with all manner of books in various sizes, bindings, and colors. There's a small wet bar situated to the right of the double wooden entry doors and, to the left of the doors, a counter with coffee, tea, and milder drinks. B4 rises, setting down a notepad and a pencil, and beckons you in.]

Good you could come by to see me today. I was brewing up some coffee--some Kona--for when we sit down, so that's available if you'd like some. I can also offer you tea or a variety of other "lethal or non-lethal" drinks. Tell me what you want and let's get ourselves ready to settle in for a bit.

[B4 bustles around as you express your preferences, then leads you back to the chairs when you're both laden with your favorite libation. Once he's nestled back in his seat, he picks up his notepad and his pencil again. His eyes have an unfocussed far-away look for several moments as he muses upon a matter, all the while twiddling the pencil and tapping the pad. Then he breaks out in a beaming smile as he looks at you and leans forward.]

Did I mention this before you came over? It's my Sister's birthday today. I did? Good. Well, she's in for a surprise. I've actually remembered to send her a card this year! Hmm? Because I have a tendency to forget and then I have all these recriminations… No, I don't think Y--- gets upset, but in my heart I feel like I've disappointed her for too many years. Starting a new trend? As a matter of fact, I am. I'm fifty-two this year, old enough to be an adult and remember these things, so I've determined to not let it slip anymore. Mm-hmm, I think she will appreciate it. And I did include a short sentimental note to let her know I do still think of her, even though we're several states distant from one another. What'd I tell her…?

[He picks up his still-steaming cup of coffee, blows across the top, and takes a cautious sip. It apparently hits the spot and loosens his lips.]

I told her I'm so thankful she's my sister and that I'm proud of all the things I've heard she's accomplished over the years. I congratulated her on reuniting with a friend from her high school years and that I wanted to be invited to the wedding. I also reassured her I'd show up for it, unlike her school graduation ceremonies that I missed. Why? Because I was in the military, in Germany, and my commitments and small paycheck didn't lend themselves to breaking free and coming back to the States. Darn right. It's one of my biggest regrets between us. Oh, to be able to get a "do over" for that one…

[He takes another tentative sip, then swirls the cup slowly. He shakes his head in the same rhythm, a small grimace on his face. His countenance brightens, though, as a memory evidently crosses his mind. He shares it.]

Oh, Lord, she was the cutest little thing when she was a youngster! Blonde hair, sparkling eyes, and the sweetest smile… Yeah, she'd just melt your heart. And inquisitive! She was into everything! Y--- was like a whirling dervish, a tiny tornado, because there was a trail wherever she went. She eventually grew out of it, but we should have seen that coming. Hmm? Oh, because she had this funny little habit…she wouldn’t touch anything sloppy, at least not something as inherently messy as a watermelon. I've got to tell you this. When she was still in a high-chair, my parents would place a slice of watermelon on the tray for her. She absolutely refused to touch it with her fingers and opted, instead, to just "face-plant" into it and nibble it. I bet my Mom still has the photo of her--arms outstretched, ducking down into the watermelon, face covered in juice and seeds. It was such a hoot to watch her!

[B4 leans back and chuckles. He takes two successive swigs from his cup, then decides to keep the levity rolling. The cup gets set down on the small table, to free up both hands. You recall how he likes to gesticulate when he talks, so you know this will be an exciting show-and-tell session. It turns out to be even more visual, as B4 slips out of his chair and gets down on the area rug on all fours. He looks sideways at you and one hand comes up off the floor to add emphasis to his words.]

Y--- wanted to tag along with me so much when we were little, it took everything in my power to break free for a bit so I could hang out with my friends. Sometimes she'd get so clingy she'd grab my leg and hold tight as I limped around, dragging her along for a ride. If I wasn't keeping tabs on her whereabouts, she'd sometimes ambush me and climb onto my back. We had a running gag so, when she did it, I would yell, "Ow! There's a tick on my back! Oh! Get the tick off my back!" Then I'd find a piece of furniture or a door frame to rub up against to try to dislodge her. Most times she'd cling tenaciously; other times she'd overbalance and drop off.

[He demonstrates how he used to do it, by nudging the table and chair with his shoulder, then scraping his back along any available corner. A few moments of this, then he collapses and rolls onto his back. His face clouds with emotion and he tilts his head to look into your eyes.]

I think I did too good a job of getting rid of her. What do I… Well, since there was eight years difference in our ages, I found more and more reasons to ~not~ do things with her. I ran with my friends and left her to find kids ~her~ own age in the neighborhood and at school. I could have been the "overprotective big brother," but I didn't choose to play the role. [His voice hitches as he continues.] I missed out on so much…as we continued to grow up and grow apart. I… I don't know. I just want to find a way to reconnect with her and share another family memory or two.

[B4 rolls onto his hands and knees, stands and brushes himself off, then returns to his chair. He gives you another one of those pleading looks.]

Perhaps I could visit her if our family goes out to Camp Gunnison in Colorado again sometime soon. You know, the Denver area isn't too far from there and I could just extend a vacation by a few days, or reallocate some of the time… You're right that'd work. It'd simply take a bit of coordinating between us. And I'd really like Y--- to meet A---, and I'd like to meet E---. She's already gotten a chance to get to know Y--- when we took a trip to visit my Mom a few years back. We drove from Fulton to Ocean Springs, and picked her up in Oxford along the way. My daughter, Y---, is actually her namesake, even though they don't have identical names. No, I don't remember what prompted me to choose… Okay, maybe you're right. I probably ~was~ missing my sister and, subconsciously, selected a similar name to keep her close in some small way. You're pretty astute, did you know that?

[He flashes a big smile at you and nods. There's a little gap in the conversation, so he looks about the room. His attention goes to one of the desks by the hearth where a laptop sits, closed, on a large calendar blotter.]

Hey, guess what prompted me to get back on the ball and send her a card this year! No, it was something entirely different. You know how we hang out on H2G2 and kibitz with one another? Sure, at Lil's Atelier and some of the other long-running threads. Well, when they kicked off the National Journal Posting Month challenge…um-hm, NaJoPoMo…I wanted to organize the Entries I'd be writing throughout the whole month. What's not to "get"? I made a little two-column table with a slot for each day of the month, and the second column for the topics I wanted to write in my Journal. I tried to pair up some of my ideas with certain days of the month, you know, coupling some significance to the day's number in light of the topic.

[He sees he's not making himself clear, so he stops, squares his shoulders, and tries to elaborate.]

Okay, here are some examples. Yesterday's date was the 3rd, and my topic was three, the number of people still living in our home. The 7th will be a tour-de-force of a typical 7-day week in my life. The 12th is titled "A Baker's Dozen," talking about twelve types of food one could bring to work when everyone is "sharing a feed" throughout a work cycle. The 19th will have my initial observations about a used BMW motorcycle I purchased last month, on the 19th, so I'll have a month's-worth of acquaintance under my belt by then. You see it now, don't you? Yup, her birthday is the 4th, today, so this is the day I submit a Journal Entry about her. Hmm… You know, you're right. I ~should~ let her know about this. It'd be like a little tribute to her. Do you think she'd be embarrassed about any of this? Well, no, because I focused on special little moments I won't soon forget; events that are endearing and still protect her dignity. Except maybe that thing with the watermelon.

[B4 recognizes you've got more to do today, so he stands and collects the drinks.]

Hey, thanks for dropping by and sharing some time with me. Your suggestions are going to come in really handy to help me organize my thoughts and write up a truly poignant Journal Entry. No, don't be that way. I mean it. You've helped more than you know. Am I gonna see you later on over at the Salon, then? Great! 'Til then…
smiley - biggrin

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Latest reply: Nov 4, 2011

B4 - NaJoPoMo 2 Nov 2011 - Personas vs. Personality

smiley - cool
Many of us have stepped into the NooHooToo, dragging our various on-screen personas with us. How many do you have tucked away? Take a moment to do an inventory. Where are they all located? Did all of them make the transfer safely? Which ones will you use in the near future? And here comes the most salient question I have for you on this topic: Why do You care?

I have a few ideas about it. Tell me if I'm wrong, or if you have different / additional reasons why these imaginary characters hold some intrinsic value to you.

These are my observations:
In essence, using a persona is acting. It's like walking onto a stage and performing improve with a set of guidelines. It's doing ad-lib for the crowd, using the cues and "straight lines" someone else feeds you, intentionally or inadvertently. It's role-playing. It's similar to character generation for an AD&D game, then speaking according to the parameters you've set for the character and responding to events in the environment.

Some folks use their on-line persona as a natural extension of who they are in real life. It simply gives them a "face" for others to get to know them as they are, just like directly developing a friendship with a neighbor or someone you meet on the street. For folks who do this, you typically find they are genuine and straightforward, the kind of person who doesn't often indulge in make-believe because they feel interrelations should all be "above board." That's not a fault or short-coming; it's the way they prefer to handle things. Truthfully, no smokescreens, able to make good valid decisions because there's no double entendre or second-guessing motives.

Conversely, using an on-line persona is like slipping on a costume for Halloween. Who among us hasn't thrilled at doing so in real life and then attempting to act accordingly? We're born into this life and we "play the hand we're dealt," but with a costume on we have the opportunity to change our station in life, the way people perceive us as a first impression, and we can experiment with a different mind-set in how we behave. Using a persona allows us to invoke Change.

With the façade of a persona, we can have a degree of anonymity. It can give us the opportunity to voice our opinions in a way we might not otherwise deem appropriate. It can provide a "buffer zone" when an on-line persona develops a reputation for responding in a certain way on particular topics, because it's not the person posting who is blunt, brash, or abrasive—it's his alter ego. Some people see it as a way to avoid the responsibility of what they say, by blaming their on-screen character for the breach of netiquette. This can be amusing if done with humor and a sense of self-deprecation; in contrast, it can grate on the nerves if it's merely an excuse to act deliberately rude to other people.

No matter why you use an on-line persona, the name (and the way you interact while assuming the persona) must have had an origin. Where did yours come from? Usually, it's a series of events that cause us to connect concepts and generate a new idea. It doesn't matter if the concepts are closely related or completely askew from one another; the fact remains the ideas came together in such a way you said, "Aha! That would make a really good name for me to go by while on-line!" What's your story? What bit of kismet, happenstance, or fate brought out the inner moniker we see on-line now? I'll show you mine if you show me yours…

Meet B4 and "his" alter egos: F19585?thread=8282573

This is kind of long and convoluted, so bear with me.

I was finishing my final tour in the military, at Keflavik NAS in Iceland, and one of the guys in my department was an avid James Cameron fan. He just couldn’t stop talking about all the work the man had put into his movie, Titanic. The kid was also half my age and shared a whole bunch of information about the new technology (at that time) of Blu-ray discs. He was so jazzed that the whole movie, Titanic, could fit on one Blu-ray, as opposed to having to spread it across several DVDs.

He got me so spun up on the ideas, I decided to do a little research on the Titanic. During the course of my searches, I stumbled upon an odd little site purporting to be dedicated to the Starship Titanic. The site was laid out like an on-line web presence for a real company building the most amazing and well-appointed luxury cruise liner to ever sail the stars. [http://www.starlight...i-bin/front.cgi] It later became this [http://www.starshiptitanic.com/ ] and shortly afterward turned into a PC game, and later still, a book written by the original conceiver, Douglas Adams, and his close friend Terry Jones, from Monty Python fame.

So, I did a look-up of Douglas Adams, because I’d read his books and listened to the audio adaptation of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy when I was a might younger. Lo and behold!—there was an H2G2 website out there, with lots of bulletin board postings and forums, based on the Guide from DNA’s novels. The main idea was to put the compendium of all human information into the capable writing and editorial hands of the actual humans to whom all this information pertained. In other words, anyone who had an area of experience or expertise could submit an article to the Guide, it would be read, edited, and finally posted as an integral part of an ever-expanding tome of encyclopedic knowledge.

There were also the free-form forums for discussion of all manner of topics. One I blundered into had several ladies discussing the merits and drool-worthiness of the different character actors for the HHGG series. Several agreed the brilliantly blue-eyed David Dixon was the quintessential Ford Prefect in the BBC television series. Having light steely-blue eyes myself, I thought it a good springboard to register myself on H2G2 with a name commensurate with the whole milieu. So, after a bit of tinkering and finding a particularly alliterative combination, I signed on as Blue-Eyed BiPedal BookWorm from Betelgeuse Beta, in honor of the Ford Prefect character.

In due course, I found my way to one of the more prolific and long-standing forums on the site, Lil’s Atelier, a haven of good conversation and good netiquette. The regulars there, as in many other such bulletin board forums had a tendency to shorten the names of those they responded to, for ease of typing and acknowledgement. My moniker very shortly became B5 so it was a snap to know when I was personally addressed. That was okay, but at some point, my punny side kicked in and I recognized an opportunity for an extra shot of humor, as well as a running gag. I dropped the “Beta” from my on-screen name and changed my visible moniker to Blue-Eyed BiPedal BookWorm from Betelgeuse (aka B4[insertpunhere]). Thereafter, I always ended every posting with B4 and a witty crammed-together phrase dealing with the topic I’d just written. [see below] Clever, huh?
smiley - cool
B4thefloodgatesopen&everyonetellstheirowntale

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Latest reply: Nov 3, 2011

B4 - NaJoPoMo 3 Nov 2011 - Three of Seven

smiley - hugsmiley - blush
That's how many people we still have living in our home. Three. Of ~SEVEN~? Yes.

Dad, Mom, #1 Son, #2 Son, #3 Daughter, #4 Daughter, and #5 Daughter. Otherwise known on these threads as: B4, A---, I---, R---, S---, B---, and Y---. Which—if you look at it and squint—spells Bairsby. (That's not our family name; it's just a coincidental observation.)

Here's the math: 1 + 1 = 7. Ours is a "melded family." It's a yours-mine-and-ours arrangement. She brought #1, #2, and #4 to the marriage; I brought #3 to the marriage. Together, we brought #5 into the family.

Seven people, under one roof. The logistics of it was often staggering. I used to joke with A--- that "they come cheaper by the dozen." She was never amused by such extrapolation. Despite the often elbow-to-elbow living arrangements, we all survived to tell about it. We had great times; we had rough patches. We still love one another, despite more than one serious faux pas made while we grew up together.
About twenty years between the adults and the oldest child; eighteen years from the oldest child to the youngest child. I sometimes joke that having our youngest was like having our own grandchild. Our youngest is rarely amused by the thought. She's the one who instigated having my wife color my grey hair back to its earlier brown, a debacle resulting in the nickname "Paprika Spice" at work. Payback's a witch…or something along those lines.

One by one, we've seen them leave the nest. Our oldest daughter, S---, actually left us first, to be with her mother. She had a number of personal adventures along the way to today. Our oldest son, I---, actually tried "living on his own" with a friend's family, by coming to live in St Louis (from Iceland), just out of High School. It didn't pan out as well as he'd hoped, and he boomeranged back to us when we moved back to the States (to St Louis), after my final military tour of duty. When the time and circumstances demanded it, we sent both of our boys, I--- and R---, out into the world to start their adult lives, with the occasional bit of help. Our middle daughter, B---, graduated high school early via home-schooling and struck out on her own. Though she calls us frequently, we don't see her very often. Our youngest, Y---, still lives at home with us.

Extended family stats: I--- married first, to a wonderful lady with one girl. They've since had two more girls who are the cutest little things! R--- married a few years later, to a wonderful lady who had three daughters old enough for high school and college. They have a very comfortable lifestyle, and he's taking college courses in the medical field, to work closer to his wife, who's already a medical professional. S--- had an adorable little daughter, lost a prospective fiancé, then found and married a self-motivated military man. They enjoy life in California as (currently) enlisted members, with sights set on her husband becoming an officer (in the near future). Even though B--- has had a number of setbacks, she's now living a life in law enforcement. We're expecting Y--- to grow into her adulthood (sooner than most) and finally leave us with an empty nest. We can wait the few years before it happens, because neither of us is really ready to lose her just yet.

That's us. I know it's not an in-depth treatise of who we are, but—then again—this is the internet and I'm not inclined to give away too much. This is enough. At least it gives you a glimpse at the family dynamics that have fashioned a big chunk of my life. These events—marriages, births, household moves, et al—have tempered my demeanor and I'm certain some of those qualities show through in my interactions here. So you see, the persona you know as B4 is actually composed of inputs from quite a number of other people's lives. What a wonderful amalgamation!
smiley - magic
B4itellyouaboutthe7grandchildrenwehave...sofar

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Latest reply: Nov 3, 2011

B4 - NaJoPoMo 3 Nov 2011 - Three of Seven

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That's how many people we still have living in our home. Three. Of ~SEVEN~? Yes.

Dad, Mom, #1 Son, #2 Son, #3 Daughter, #4 Daughter, and #5 Daughter. Otherwise known on these threads as: B4, A---, I---, R---, S---, B---, and Y---. Which—if you look at it and squint—spells Bairsby. (That's not our family name; it's just a coincidental observation.)

Here's the math: 1 + 1 = 7. Ours is a "melded family." It's a yours-mine-and-ours arrangement. She brought #1, #2, and #4 to the marriage; I brought #3 to the marriage. Together, we brought #5 into the family.

Seven people, under one roof. The logistics of it was often staggering. I used to joke with A--- that "they come cheaper by the dozen." She was never amused by such extrapolation. Despite the often elbow-to-elbow living arrangements, we all survived to tell about it. We had great times; we had rough patches. We still love one another, despite more than one serious faux pas made while we grew up together.

About twenty years between the adults and the oldest child; eighteen years from the oldest child to the youngest child. I sometimes joke that having our youngest was like having our own grandchild. Our youngest is rarely amused by the thought. She's the one who instigated having my wife color my grey hair back to its earlier brown, a debacle resulting in the nickname "Paprika Spice" at work. Payback's a witch…or something along those lines.

One by one, we've seen them leave the nest. Our oldest daughter, S---, actually left us first, to be with her mother. She had a number of personal adventures along the way to today. Our oldest son, I---, actually tried "living on his own" with a friend's family, by coming to live in St Louis (from Iceland), just out of High School. It didn't pan out as well as he'd hoped, and he boomeranged back to us when we moved back to the States (to St Louis), after my final military tour of duty. When the time and circumstances demanded it, we sent both of our boys, I--- and R---, out into the world to start their adult lives, with the occasional bit of help. Our middle daughter, B---, graduated high school early via home-schooling and struck out on her own. Though she calls us frequently, we don't see her very often. Our youngest, Y---, still lives at home with us.

Extended family stats: I--- married first, to a wonderful lady with one girl. They've since had two more girls who are the cutest little things! R--- married a few years later, to a wonderful lady who had three daughters old enough for high school and college. They have a very comfortable lifestyle, and he's taking college courses in the medical field, to work closer to his wife, who's already a medical professional. S--- had an adorable little daughter, lost a prospective fiancé, then found and married a self-motivated military man. They enjoy life in California as (currently) enlisted members, with sights set on her husband becoming an officer (in the near future). Even though B--- has had a number of setbacks, she's now living a life in law enforcement. We're expecting Y--- to grow into her adulthood (sooner than most) and finally leave us with an empty nest. We can wait the few years before it happens, because neither of us is really ready to lose her just yet.

That's us. I know it's not an in-depth treatise of who we are, but—then again—this is the internet and I'm not inclined to give away too much. This is enough. At least it gives you a glimpse at the family dynamics that have fashioned a big chunk of my life. These events—marriages, births, household moves, et al—have tempered my demeanor and I'm certain some of those qualities show through in my interactions here. So you see, the persona you know as B4 is actually composed of inputs from quite a number of other people's lives. What a wonderful amalgamation!
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