August '23 Book List

Only five books read in August. For some, summertime is when they read more. For me, it seems to be less. 

Once Upon A Tome: The Misadventures of a Rare Bookseller by Oliver Darkshire is a memoir of how the author became an apprentice bookseller in one of London's oldest rare book stores. I read it becaue I thought it was one of those books about books, but it was more about the author's misadventures. I didn't find it particularly enjoyable.

Murder Book by Thomas Perry is hist latest and much more my cup of tea. 

Charles Frazier is one of my favorite authors. I always eagerly await his next novel. The Trackers is his first book in five years so I had to wait awhile for this one. It is so different from his previous novels which are mostly set in the south. This one is set in Montana and points west during the depression. It was good, excellent writing, as always, but just not the storyline I look forward to in a Frazier book. 

The Air Raid Book Club by Annie Lyons is my kind of book about books. This one is set in London during the German air raids of WWII. I totally understand the power of reading a good book to help you cope during times of stress.

The English Girl by Daniel Silva is the next in the Gabriel Allon series that I have been reading my way through. There are nine more on my list that I have yet to read and I believe he has another new one coming out this fall. 

I wonder how September will shape up as a book reading month?

Ramona Worth $150,000 to $250,000

The title of this post is definitely misleading but not 'fake news'. It is not about me, therefore misleading, but it is a real news story which I read this morning. 

This painting by N.C. Wyeth was one of four illustrations he did for the 1939 edition of Helen Hunt Jackson's book Ramona. It was purchased in 2017 in a New Hampshire thrift store by a woman looking for picture frames to repurpose. She paid $4.00 for it. The auction company expects the painting to bring between $150,000 to $250,000 when it is auctioned on September 19th.

This is the cover of the 1939 edition. The untitled illustration is of Ramona and Father Salvierderra.

I believe the top photo is from the frontispiece. (The illustration facing the title page of the book.)

The article stated that only one other of the original four illustrations has been found.

Which was this one of Ramona and Alessandro on the Narrow Trail. It sold for $665,000 in 2014.

I haven't found an example of the fourth illustration yet.

I have read the book Ramona several times over the years.

This is the cover of the paperback version which is on my bookshelf now. 

It was printed in Canada in 1970. I doubt the original illustration for this cover will ever sell for thousands of dollars, but I do like it alot.

And this is where it resides in situ on my bookshelf - right behind my Isabel Bloom sculpture, Woman Reading. As anyone who knows me well, knows I am a reading woman.

Time for Back-to-School Pics

If there's one thing Grandmas - or in my case - Great-grandmas love, it is back -to-school photos of all the great-grands. And this year I am fortunate enough to see pictures of all ten of them. 

Beginning with oldest grandson Brock's three boys. Sawyer, left, Ridge, middle and Jack right. This isn't exactly a back to school pic, but it is the first photo of Ridge that I've seen in more than a year. He is 13 years old now, has really grown, and is quite handsome in my opinion.

This is a first day of school picture of Sawyer and Jack.

Kinda of hard to believe Sawyer is the eldest. Interesting that family members can share the same genes yet look very different. 

I'm not sure of the grades in school, but Sawyer is 10 and Jack will be 9 this fall.

Rodney is my eldest granddaughter Katrina's son. He will also be 13 this fall and in the 8th grade. Another handsome great-grandson.

His future goal is to be an Entrepreneur. I wonder how many 8th graders already know what they want to be - or even know what an entrepreneur is. 

Rodney's little sister Brynley is a first grader. 

She is a little live wire and so much fun to be around. 

She is in a cheer squad and playing soccer this fall.

Granddaughter Alyssa's two posed together for their first day of school pic.

Lily is in sixth grade and Maverick is in Kindergarten.

I don't see these two much anymore as they live near the Iowa - Minnesota state line. 

These seven are my oldest son Douglas' grandchildren.

Greyson, left and Ayden, right are the sons of my grandson Ki.

Another instance where the youngest is bigger than the oldest. Although these two missed by one day of being exactly one year apart. 

Greyson is in 3rd grade and Ayden is in the 4th.

Granddaughter Kathryn's son Louis isn't in school yet, but this is a recent picture of him taken, I think, at preschool.

Louis is two and a half years old.

These three boys are the grandsons of my son Preston.

I hope they all have a great school year and am grateful to their parents for sharing photos. They grow and change so fast it is hard to keep up with them. Photos help me with that somewhat.

Any time I get to be around them in person is a great time for this great-grandma. 💖😘

Goodbye Beautiful House

 On Losing A House (By Mary Oliver)

The bumble bees

know where their home is.

They have memorized

every stalk and leaf

of the field.

They fall from the air at

exactly

the right place,

they crawl

under the soft grasses,

they enter

the darkness

humming.

Where will we go

with our table and chairs,

our bed,

our nine thousand books,

our TV, PC, VCR,

our cat

who is sixteen years old?

Where will we put down

our dishes and our blue carpets,

where will we put up

our rose-colored,

rice-paper

shades?

We never saw

such a beautiful house,

though it dipped toward the sea,

though it shook and creaked,

though it said to the rain: come in!

and had a ghost—

at night she rattled the teacups

with her narrow hands,

then left the cupboard open—

and once she slipped—or maybe it wasn't a slip—

and called to our cat, who ran to the empty room.

We only smiled.

Unwise! Unwise!

O, what is money?

O, never in our lives have we thought

about money.

O, we have only a little money.

O, now in our sleep

we dream of finding money.

But someone else

already has money.

Money, money, money.

Someone else

can sign the papers,

can turn the key.

O dark, O heavy, O mossy money.

Amazing

how the rich

don't even

hesitate—up go the

sloping rooflines, out goes the

garden, down goes the crooked,

green tree, out goes the

old sink, and the little windows, and

there you have it—a house

like any other—and there goes

the ghost, and then another, they glide over

the water, away, waving and waving

their fog-colored hands.

Don't tell us

how to love, don't tell us

how to grieve, or what

to grieve for, or how loss

shouldn't sit down like a gray

bundle of dust in the deepest

pockets of our energy, don't laugh at our belief

that money isn't

everything, don't tell us

how to behave in

anger, in longing, in loss, in home-

sickness, don't tell us,

dear friends.

Goodbye, house.

Goodbye, sweet and beautiful house,

we shouted, and it shouted back,

goodbye to you, and lifted itself

down from the town, and set off

like a packet of clouds across

the harbor's sandy ring,

the tossing bell, the untowned point—and turned

lightly, wordlessly,

into the keep of the wind

where it floats still—

where it plunges and rises still

on the black and dreamy sea.

It does float still....in my memories. 💛

I Will Arise And Go Now

I cannot believe I haven't used this poem before. It is one of my lifetime favorites. (Photo is of Lake Binder near Corning.)

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

You've Come A Long Way Baby

 

 Yesterday, while searching for something else, I found this new, old, deck of playing cards. New because they had never been opened. Old because they were a promotional item for The Phillip Morris Company's Virginia Slims cigarettes.

  

I assumed the cards were some that I had gotten sometime in 1969 or 1970 when I briefly smoked Virginia Slims Ultra Lights Menthols. Phillip Morris had introduced them in 1968 in the midst of the Women's Liberation Movement.  But the cards didn't come out until 1985.

I considered myself a feminist, or women's libber, and I definitely championed equal rights, so I jumped right on the bandwagon and changed to the cigarette brand that seemed to champion 'our' cause. 

It wasn't long before I went back to my Salem cigarettes though because the longer Virginia Slims did not fit in my fancy cigarette case. 

I may not have gotten the playing cards as a promotional item, but I'm pretty sure I did get this packet of needles and needle threader.

At least I remember having one like this.

So I opened that old new deck of cards and discovered that the face cards were all depictions of women. Except for the Joker. Obviously the Joker was a man. 😏

The 'King' and Queen of Hearts are my favorite poses along with the Jack of Spades. She looks like she could cause some serious harm with that battle axe.

I quit smoking for good in January, 1973 - I've come a long way baby.  😌

Yesterday, When I Was Young

Roy Clark was always one of my favorite singers and his 1969 hit of Yesterday, When I Was Young was my favorite version of that tune. Written by Herbert Kretzmer and Charles Aznavour, all I have to do is think the title and I hear Clark's spoken and sung words of love and regret. 

It seems the love I've known has always been
The most destructive kind
I guess that's why now I feel so old
Before my time

 Yesterday when I was young

The taste of life was sweet as rain upon my tongue
I teased at life as if it were a foolish game
The way the evening breeze may tease a candle flame
The thousand dreams I dreamed, the splendid things I planned
I always built to last on weak and shifting sand
I lived by night and shunned the naked light of the day
And only now I see how the years ran away

Yesterday when I was young
So many happy songs were waiting to be sung
So many wild pleasures lay in store for me
And so much pain my dazzled eyes refused to see
I ran so fast that time and youth at last ran out
I never stopped to think what life was all about
And every conversation I can now recall
Concerned itself with me and nothing else at all

Yesterday the moon was blue
And every crazy day brought something new to do
I used my magic age as if it were a wand
And never saw the waste and the emptiness beyond
The game of love I played with arrogance and pride
And every flame I lit too quickly, quickly died
The friends I made all seemed somehow to drift away
And only I am left on stage to end the play

There are so many songs in me that won't be sung
I feel the bitter taste of tears upon my tongue
The time has come for me to pay
For yesterday when I was young

These Boots Were Made For Walking

 

Or, apparently not as I only wore them three or four times. But boy do I remember agonizing over whether or not to buy them at Gordman's  in the Lake Manawa shopping mall. It would have been about thirty-five years ago. They cost in the neighborhood of fifty dollars. Should I? Yes? No?

I asked HD what he thought - "It's up to you." It was ridiculous to want a pair of red boots so badly. But I did. As I recall they were Rouge, not red, and part of the Liz Claiborne shoe collection. 

I still think they are beautiful, but I never felt comfortable wearing them - not because of fit, but because of style. I just didn't know what to wear them with, other than maybe black slacks.

There are a couple used pairs just like these for sale online, one for $45 and one for $15. I would happily give mine to someone, maybe a granddaughter, if they fit (8-1/2 M) and she wanted them.

As it is, they'll probably go into a bag of donations for the resale shop here in town. Maybe someone else will want them as much as I once did.

In The Windmills Of Your Mind

Like a circle in a spiral

Like a wheel within a wheel

Never ending or beginning

On an ever-spinning reel

As the images unwind

Like the circles that you find

In the windmills of your mind.

Even though this photo looks much like the windmill on our farm, it is not. Even though it does have a volunteer tree growing up inside the windmill tower just like the one on our farm, it is not. The last time I was past our old farm the windmill still stood with a few blades broken off but not with the blades cascading as they are in this photo.

I can't remember where or when I took this photo - probably sometime in the 70's. "Where or when" reminds me of the Rodgers and Hart song and this verse from that 1937 hit fit perfectly.

"When you're awake, the things you think

Come from the dreams you dream

Thought has wings

And lots of things

Are seldom what they seem

Sometimes you think you've lived before

All that you live today

Things you do

Come back to you

As though they knew the way

Oh! the tricks your mind can play!"  

Why Do I Read? Because....

"The best things in life invariably start with a book." (From The Air Raid Book Club* by Annie Lyons.)

And this quote from Gary Paulsen:

“Why do I read?
I just can't help myself.
I read to learn and to grow, to laugh
and to be motivated.

I read to understand things I've never
been exposed to.
I read when I'm crabby, when I've just
said monumentally dumb things to the
people I love.

I read for strength to help me when I
feel broken, discouraged, and afraid.
I read when I'm angry at the whole
world. I read when everything is going right.
I read to find hope.

I read because I'm made up not just of
skin and bones, of sights, feelings,
and a deep need for chocolate, but I'm
also made up of words.

Words describe my thoughts and what's
hidden in my heart.
Words are alive--when I've found a
story that I love, I read it again and
again, like playing a favorite song
over and over.

Reading isn't passive--I enter the
story with the characters, breathe
their air, feel their frustrations,
scream at them to stop when they're
about to do something stupid, cry with
them, laugh with them.

Reading for me, is spending time with a
friend.
A book is a friend.
You can never have too many.”

(*The book I am currently reading - and loving.)

The Slamming of the Old Screen Door

 

I miss the thwack sound our old screen door made as it slammed back after we hurriedly pushed our way through it on our rush to get outside to play. It signaled the escape to freedom and more adventuring around the farm.

It was the screen door between the kitchen and the back porch which looked much like this. I remember the times we were in too much of a hurry and our hands went through the screen instead of on the frame. Eventually new screen wire was purchased and the gaping hole was mended.

Not the screen door to the outside which was the one seen here in a photo of Mom feeding her cats.

That one was sturdier and had a window in a frame that could be exchanged for a screen during the warm months.

It did not close in the same satisfying thwack as the first door and it opened in instead of out which slowed down our rush to get out - awkwardly needing a push then a pull in order to break free.

When I looked for quotes about slamming screen doors, this by Shel Silverstein got the most search returns:

But these lyrics from the song, Ruby, Don't Take Your Love To Town, sung by Kenny Rogers are the ones I hear in my mind:

"She's leaving now 'cause I just heard the slamming of the door, the way I've heard it slam a hundred times before...."

One other memory of the screen door slamming lies firmly planted in my little grey cells. It is from when my younger brother was a baby. My sister and I, and sometimes my older brother, were quick to learn, and heed, taking care when the door was opened and shut so that it wouldn't awaken the sleeping baby.

One day our neighbor boy came down to play with Ron. The boys went out, my brother first and then Normie and Norman let the screen door slam. I followed him outside and yelled at him: "Don't do that again! You'll wake up the baby!" I was angry though it probably didn't bother him at all. My 'little mother' role as the ten-year-old big sister was very important to me. 😠 💗

More Rilke, More Patience

I just shared my first poem by Rainer Marie Rilke a few days ago and now I find this passage from his book Letters To A Young Poet:

"Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live with them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day."

Oh, if only I had read that advice forty years ago. Would it have saved me some of the angst I was going through in those, half my lifetime, years ago?  I doubt it. I probably couldn't have lived with the answers then. That last line has been more like it - experiencing at least some of the answers - in some distant day. 

I have been reading some of my old journals, including the one I am holding in the photo above, and revisiting the almost daily seeking of answers to the unanswerable questions swirling in my life then.

What was it Mom used to say? "Time answers everything." 

Haunted Chamber of the Heart

Fourteen Years of Blogging

I began my Chances R blog on August 12, 2009, fourteen years ago today, without the slightest idea what I was doing or how to do it. That first blog post was only a paragraph long because I accidently hit 'publish' and then didn't know how to go back to add more. 

I didn't even have a scanner then so I could not add my own photos, I 'borrowed' ones from the internet and used them. (I still didn't know how to transfer pictures from my first digital camera to my computer.)

A little over a month ago when I realized how close I was to having posted 2000 blogspots, I thought, "Wouldn't it be neat to make my 2000th post on the anniversary of the first one?" So, that is what I've done. But the bigger question as today loomed on the horizon was what to write about to make it significant? (I look back at my 1000th post seven years ago and see I had the same question then.)*

I was pondering the same question last night and again when I got up this morning - what am I going to write about? Meantime I saw this out my window....

.... the beauty of  the clouds reflecting the morning sunrise being further reflected in the water of the pond.

After I got the picture on my computer I noticed the added bonus of a large bird just above the trees on the far right side. Faint, but there, if you click on the picture.

And as it got a bit lighter out, there was mama deer with her twin fawns over along the fence line!

Oh, joy, seeing them!

Once I started taking photos I couldn't stop - which has always been my 'problem'. I love taking pictures. I always have, from the very first time my mom let me use her camera.

I didn't even realize until yesterday that the Naked Ladies were blooming. I had noticed them in other people's yards but not mine!

The few Zinnias I planted from last year's saved seeds are also making a beautiful splash of color. I vow to plant more next year!

It was about this time that I grasped the truth - my blogs always were meant to be, have been, and still are, about the minutiae of my everyday life. Why should my 2000th be any different?

So here it is, #2000. If you noticed, or wondered, about all those posts each day for the last 15 days, now you know why.

Another Zinnia picture - these have started blooming in the planter on the deck - same seeds as the previous photo - but look how small they are. They look like minitures compared to the ones growing in the ground.

Just like I thought after the 1000th post, I've been thinking "Maybe I'll quit now after my 2000th." But I know that's not going to happen. I'll always be taking photos, or finding new poems or remembering another memory, or discovering more relatives and want to write about them.

Plus, I'm starting to see great improvement since my accident and that alone makes me feel more confident and positive about my life and future. 

It's a beautiful day. 💛🌞

(*If I had blogged every day in the past fourteen years, I'd have done more than 5100 posts!)

Going Down A Different Sort of Rabbit Hole

Usually the kind of rabbit holes I go down are on the internet. I look up, or at, something which leads me to look up something I see on the first site which leads me on to another site which causes me to go to .... well, you know.

But this week I've spent way too much time chasing one of my memories. It started with a thought about a friend from forty-plus years ago named Ivadell. As soon as I thought of her I remembered one specific weekend when she came to visit me and the kids when we lived on Tuck Corner.

The specific memory was a photo of her wearing my cowboy (cowgirl?) hat. My steady guy was taking us both out for a Saturday night of dinner and dancing and we were kidding about wearing my western hats. I wanted to find the photo to go along with this post so I started sorting through hundreds of old photos. That took most of two afternoons and I did not find the photo I wanted of Ivadell in my hat. So, the next best thing was to find the journal entry from 1978-79-80 (?) which related to her visit and would remind me of more details. That took another afternoon or two of reading old journals since I didn't know the exact date.

Finally, I found it: October 6 - "A very nice evening and tomorrow, Ivadell!" That's it. No details and no more posts until October 27. So, I guess I have to rely on my faded memories after all. 

Not Ivadell in the hat, but me. 

At least I found a pic of the hat.

I was working at the Congregate Meal Site then and Ivadell came down to present some kind of program for the group - something relating to senior citizens. She was almost a senior citizen herself at 62. Ivadel was so friendly and personable, everyone enjoyed meeting her.

Back to the evening of dinner and dancing - Caldwell's in Redding was one of our favorite places to go and that is where we took Ivadell. It was a happening place back then. (Operated 1976 - 1983)

The building is still there but now it is Tull Farms. The left hand side was the restaurant and the right hand side was where the dance floor was with a stage at the far south side and tables and chairs around the dance floor. On a Saturday night the place was packed. I wish I could remember the names of some of the bands that played there.

We usually stayed until "the last dog was hung" as my Mom used to say. That night as we left there was a guy we knew who was having some kind of car trouble - wouldn't start? Flat tire and no spare? Anyway he asked if we could take him home. Of course. What else could we do? But cram four adults into the cab of a pickup? Not so easy and definitely not comfortable especially for a trip of fifty miles. He was appreciative and we were relieved once we got him to his home. 

There were a couple other things I remember about her visit but what I can't remember is how, where, or when I first met her. It was when I was living near and working in Des Moines. Ivadell was an events planner for Drake University's Olmstead Center, so maybe there? Or perhaps through PRSA (Public Relations Society of America) where I was a member - maybe she was, too? Maybe at the recording studio where I worked or through a mutual friend? I just can't recall. Regardless we met, hit it off, and became friends.

I did see her and meet her new husband Wilbur at a St. Patrick's Day party at their home in 1985 after I moved back to West Des Moines. They were a fun couple. Both died in 2008 just a few months apart.

I found this photo of her on her obituary. I'm glad that thought I had about her several days ago sent me down this rabbit hole. It has been a pleasure to remember her and some of the times we spent together. 💞

Sixty-one Years of Togetherness

 

My eldest child is 61 years old today. I haven't posted about him on his birthday since 2017, so it's about time I featured him again. That post on his 55th birthday was about thankfulness after he had survived cancer.

This picture of the two of us was taken Mother's Day Weekend in 2014 in Adel. He's been giving me a hanging planter for Mother's Day for years. And this photo of the two of us is a favorite.

There are so many memories and photos of our years together. It is hard to decide what to include.

But I've been going through old photos the last couple of days - searching for certain ones in particular. (Though not ones of him.)

In that process I found many I haven't used before and scanned them to my computer. Therefore, most of the post will feature those of younger years.

Doug's third birthday was celebrated with both sets of grandparents Betty and Chuck Botkin on the left; Ruth and Louis Lynam on the right and Great-grandma Ridnour in between. Our friends Roger and Darlene were there, too, with their son Michael. 

Like the one above, most of these pictures were taken when we lived on the Odell farm west of Brooks from 1964 to 1967.

That is when Doug got his first dog, Mimi. She was a constant and true friend, one from a litter my sister-in-law's parents' dog whelped.

Note those ears of corn in 'farmer' Doug's wagon. 

Another picture of these two inseparable buddies. This one when Mimi was a little younger.

Time and storage took a toll on these photos but they are still clear enough to tell a story.

Other photos that fared better have already been used in previous posts - most notably the ones of Doug and his cat.

Doug got his first swing set when we lived there. A very nice one with swings, a glider and a slide. As I recall it cost around $40 which was a big expenditure for us in those days.

We couldn't take it when he and I moved to Mt. Vernon so I sold it to a cousin of mine for $30 - though I never did get the money for it.

As I recall there was an old chicken house behind the swing set.

Not long ago Douglas shared one of the poems he wrote as an adult.

It mentioned something about a bridge, and though I had read the poem before, I hadn't realized the bridge he obliquely referred to was a little one I had built across a ditch northwest of the barn. 

Now if I could just add his poem to this picture. 

Our last Christmas at the Odell place - 1966. Doug looks very happy with his farm set.

But look at the holes in his pajama feet and knees. He was either very hard on his clothes or we couldn't afford new jammies.

After a few months in an apartment in Corning, Douglas and I moved across the state to Mount Vernon, Iowa. My new job in nearby Lisbon paid more than I had ever earned before. 

We loved exploring the area. Palisades Kepler State Park was just outside town and favorite place to go.

Stone City was another picturesque little town.

It was famous for its limestone quarries and many buildings constructed from the limestone.

Grant Wood also painted some famous pictures there.

Doug wasn't thrilled about sitting so close to the dam. 

But seemed a little more comfortable standing near it.

At the time I was only concerned about taking some cute photos. But when I look at these now I can only wonder what on earth I was thinking! What would I have done if he fell in! 

After a few months we left Mt. Vernon and moved to Cedar Rapids until June, 1968, after I remarried and we moved to Des Moines for a year and Doug completed first grade. 

May 30, 1969 we moved to an acreage between Clive and Grimes.

No longer was it just the two of us, there were four. In addition to a step-father, Doug got a little sister on May 31, 1969.

He also got a big old barn to play in. Eventually it was torn down which was a blow to his fun, but it helped a little that the wood was used to construct the Carpenter's Shop at Living History Farms.

Christmas 1971 a guitar for Douglas, a doll for Kari and a baby brother for both of them - and then we were five.

Until 1974 when it was just me and my three children living on the acreage through May, 1978 when we moved back home to SW Iowa.

Doug celebrating his 11th birthday.

The nine years we spent living here were some of the best, but there were heartaches. Doug lost his beloved Mimi.

When she was replaced by a little border collie I let Doug name her. He was taking French in school at the time. The new pup's name was Nadette.

An older Mimi when we lived near Grimes.

Douglas finished high school in Corning, graduating early in January 1980, so he could move back to Perry to live with his Dad and attend DMACC.

While there he met and married then divorced.

Bud he ended up with a sweet son, Brock. Here the two are pictured with another of Doug's dogs, Bernie.

This is Douglas on his 50th birthday. I gave him a treasure chest of 'gold' dollars and a treasure map with "X marks the spot". He got a kick out of that

He has visited St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands several times, even going there to help rebuild after a hurricane. I think he would retire there if he could. 

One of my favorite photos of my son is this one I took of him at the Minnesota Renaissance Faire several years ago. 'Duggan' has embraced his Scottish roots though this isn't quite the Duncan plaid.

Most of this post has been about his early years which were the ones that formed our mother/son relationship and were probably the most emotional of our lives together. 

If I hadn't had him with me while we 'grew up together' I don't know what I would have done. Here's to a few more good years with you my son. 💕