| If you would like to link to my weblog and read entries there simply follow this entry
Thanks!
Tim
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| If you grew up in the 1950's to the 1970's plus era he probably does but you may not know it, Steven Foster wrote over 40 of Americans favorite ditty songs sang at baseball games and family trips etc.
Did you or your friends ever sing a rebel rousing round of "B I N G O" and bingo was his name..O
Or "99 bottles of beer on the wall". How about "Camp Town Races" or "Oh Susanna".
Well if you do remember him and his songs you may be also interested in how he died.
Steven Foster died a penniless alcoholic in the bathroom of a homeless shelter in the Bowery District of New York City.
The only thing he had in his pocket was a brief scribble of yet another song he had someday hoped would bring joy to millions of lives.
Why am I telling you this? Because it doesn't matter how you die, whether you die living in Chicago's Miracle Mile or the urine saturated cockroach infested floor of a homeless shelter, what counts FOREVER is how you lived.
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| My adopted sister (as opposed to my 3half sisters and 2 half brothers) has ovarian cancer.
I used to say she was dying from ovarian cancer until one day I realized she is LIVING with ovarian cancer!
I do not know if one day it may take her life but that's kind of my point, nor do I know if she may walk out in front of a car racing through a red light and get killed instantaneously.
And while I'm thinking of it, I may have a sudden massive heart attack and not be able to finish this p
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| Which in a very real way is completely fascinating to me because I have never written poetry...
So, I'm kind of pleased in an odd way that someone would think one of my writings was bad poetry, hey, it may be bad but they still see it as poetry....
Maybe next time someone will accuse me of not being very bright for a Rhodes Scholar....who knows.
Hey speaking of Rhodes Scholars, did you know Chris Christopherson is a R.S. Pretty cool huh?
Which brings me to the preponderance of what do people really mean when they say "go fuck yourself!"
I mean they HAVE to know it's anatomically impossible!
Hmmmmm, I'm off to my thinking room...care to join me?
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