tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5977625681756554695.post1448770825511388173..comments2024-03-26T13:46:42.738-05:00Comments on 4 Quarters, 10 Dimes: Hog HeavenDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03463621516644789183noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5977625681756554695.post-20532103208015093372018-04-15T09:52:06.793-05:002018-04-15T09:52:06.793-05:00You know, there's a fine line between comedy a...You know, there's a fine line between comedy and tragedy and that story manages to straddle it well.Davidhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03463621516644789183noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5977625681756554695.post-1251874790288015752018-04-14T17:16:45.868-05:002018-04-14T17:16:45.868-05:00Be patient. The set up for this is going to take a...Be patient. The set up for this is going to take a bit ...<br /><br />My father became a full blown alcoholic in the summer of 1952. He had <i>reasons</i> that, I guess, in hindsight, made sense to him. I never knew the non-alcoholic version of my father. However, he still managed to hang on to some semblance of a sense of humor. He had this thing he did. Frequently.<br /><br />My version of your story begins at this truck stop:<br /><br />http://www.wyomingtalesandtrails.com/littleamerica2.html<br /><br />I was 11, which dates this to the summer of 1965. Sitting in the restaurant at Little America, we overheard something truly amazing from the people at the next table …<br /><br />Father to Mother: “Wait. I seem to have lost track. Am I drunk or sober?”<br /><br />Mom: “Sober.”<br /><br />Father: “Wow.”<br /><br />Mom: “Yeah. You really should try this more often. You miss an awful lot of ‘Wow’ moments.”<br /><br />Father: “ I think that’s why I drink …”<br /><br />Lucy<br />LucyInDisguisehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08169432604954981941noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5977625681756554695.post-26597660648138339932018-04-14T16:54:07.144-05:002018-04-14T16:54:07.144-05:00When I moved to Iowa, back in the early 90s, my da...When I moved to Iowa, back in the early 90s, my dad and my brother came out to Pittsburgh to help me. My friends and I had stuffed all of my worldly possessions in a Ryder truck, and the three of us drove west into the sunset until we got to Peru, Illinois, where we found a truck stop restaurant.<br /><br />And there in this truck stop, as we ate our Heart Attack Specials and listened to the teenaged waitress loudly describe to her coworker how she had fallen asleep underneath somebody the previous night, my dad looked at me and said, "You know, there are times when you just have to stop and ask yourself, 'How the fuck did I end up <i>here</i>?'"<br /><br />I find a lot of life is like that, really.Davidhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03463621516644789183noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5977625681756554695.post-16425627206680313622018-04-14T16:08:56.180-05:002018-04-14T16:08:56.180-05:00I have been known to frequently ask the question:
...I have been known to frequently ask the question:<br /><br /><i>Soooo, are all your dreams and aspirations turning out the way you planned in high skool?</i><br /><br />“So today I bought a pig.”<br /><br />That’s what I thought.<br /><br />LucyLucyInDisguisehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08169432604954981941noreply@blogger.com