I think I have figured it out. My WW2 sailor dad wanted to take his wife and their two sons back to Cleburne, TX, where his family was.

But my moms parents were all over their grandsons, in California. It caused a clash, and my dad went back to Texas without his family, a broken man. I got to know him in his older years, and I loved him.

Then mom marries a trucker and gives my brother and I a sister. We traveled all over the West, chasing my new fathers dreams, most of which are now a gentle blur.

I cherished my grand-parents, they were an intregal part of my life, until their end.

My brother is gone, his legacy passed with him in the locked down mental health nursing home facility he died in.

My sister is alive and doing well, building her legacy strong. They are my family, and I love them!

I have no clue what kind of legacy I'm going to leave behind. Minimal at the most! The old frumphy grandpa crashing and burning in a Tennessee town would make a fun TikTok short, but I ain't filming it!

I meant to name this post Legacy, but as I finish off the bottom of a peanut butter jar with a couple pickled eggs, for dinner, I digress...