Hi. I'm back from my four days in Oklahoma City. I flew in from Denver, my little sister and her two precious babies, Jack and Kate flew in from Rutherford, New Jersey, and my Aunt Blanche (who is 88) flew in from San Francisco because--it had been reported to us--that my Uncle Murlan, who will be 91 in January, was ready to bite the big one; on his last legs and infested with Alzheimer's.
First of all, let me say that in spite of Uncle Murlan's age, physical maladies and the slight stroke that has affected his speech somewhat, he appeared to be in good shape. His color is good, his mind is good (his memory is exceptional) and he--at least, while we were there--showed no signs of dementia.
Curiously, my cousin Bobby told me that he and his brother Mike had, not so long ago, purchased a fifth of bourbon for Murlan to consume at his leisure. Well, uncle Murlan--loving bourbon as he does and did throughout his adulthood--downed the fifth fairly quickly (no mixer) and, as a consequence became the mean drunk that appears to run in the family (except for me--I just get sleepy or horny) and Uncle Murlan--drunk as a skunk at 90 years old--identified his son, Mike, as an enemy of George W. Bush's America and vociferously demanded he leave the premises. Well, cousin Bobby and Mike, got Uncle Murlan in his pjs, put him to bed and listened for almost an hour to Murlan's raving that he was being held against his will and please, please, wouldn't somebody help him escape the confinement. Suffice it to say, cousin Bobby has decided that Uncle Murlan will no longer be allowed the sublime pleasure of another fifth of bourbon.
All in all, the trip was okay. More on this later.
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