I called Pat and said, "I really want to go see Ken's sister in Amarillo next week, could you work out a time to go with me?"  She said, "Throw your toothbrush and a change of clothes in a bag.  I'll be there in thirty minutes and we'll go right now."

It was the fourth of July, she had no plans, neither did I, so we dropped Squig off at Becky's house and left for Amarillo thirty minutes later.  Stayed all night at the Holiday Inn and came home the next day.  She had to be at work at two.

I knew I needed to go soon.  Ken's sister, Mary Lou, is ninety-two and not doing well.  I would have gone by myself, but my girls don't want me to do that anymore for fear I'll have car trouble or some other catastrophe and get stranded.  It's a four hour trip, no problem for me to drive, but I'm trying to learn to be agreeable--which is hard.  I prefer being in control.  Which--I'll admit--is not completely possible anymore.  Becky's husband Craig takes care of most problems that arise.  He is stellar.

Mary Lou is the only member of my family that is left in that last, Greatest Generation.   When she is gone, I'll be the only leaf left on the tree.  Mercy.  What a horrible thought.  On my side of the family the only one left is my brother Bill.  Well, there is my sister Lisa, but she's too young to count.  She's the same age as my girls--21 years younger than me.  She and Becky were born seven days apart.

The thing you lose as you age is the common knowledge and experience of those who lived through the same things you did.  World War II, rationing, the great depression, no TV, not much of anything that people seem to depend on today.  Nobody flew.  They walked or took the bus.  Air conditioning was obtained by opening the windows.  We played hop-scotch, jacks, hide and seek, etc.  All "play" was outside.  Information came on the radio--usually days and days out of date.  I could go on and on about that.  Suffice to say, all of that is gone, and as those who experienced what you experienced are gone, a piece of yourself goes with them.

I'm going to my high school reunion this week-end--1956.  It will be fun.  We get together every other year and reminisce.  The fifties were the last decade of wonderland.  The war was over and the insane, crazy, stupid sixties were yet to come.  My generation was truly blessed by God himself.