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Coffee Break with Liz and Kate » Headline, » who makes viagra

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liz and kate cup beigeI don’t mind telling you of the high expectations I had for our family reunion this weekend. I’d set out to discover I was a daughter of the Revolution on not one side, but two sides of the family as we headed to some place in Virginia. (The same place I’d referred to as being in West Virginia for more than a week… All these places just over the Kentucky border just blur into one.)

Not that I hadn’t been there before. Oh, I had. Two years prior. Which could be the reason I can’t remember – or choose to forget – which state I’m in.

The last time I went to the reunion, the first thing I saw was a giant statue of Jesus, on his back and strapped to a trailer in the lodge’s parking lot. So I’d ask you: do you really want to know what state I was in? Wouldn’t it almost be better if you didn’t?

Anyway, back to this year’s reunion and my quest for a double blood line back to the Revolution. Wait. First I have to tell you that, while we were there for several days, the reunion itself is about six hours of family registration, a mixer (I’m not even going there…), lunch, (which, of course, has an agenda of its own), and planning for the next year.

We – as in my children and I – were there for about two of those six hours, thanks to the thoughtfulness and cover-up of my dad, bless his heart, and my mother, bless her heart (“You all don’t need to stay for the rest of this…”). Hello pool, playground and paddle boats!

I really wanted to hear the stories and see the old pictures, though. It was the only way to get to the blood line I knew would show itself.

Until the stories started.

Seems like at least one relative – Bad Devil John (no, I’m not kidding) – was a real rebel of sorts. Married to at least seven or eight women at once, God knows how many kids, and a killer of sorts. You know, the kind of killer who’d kill ya for looking at him cross-eyed.

Then there was Bad Blind Noah. But he wasn’t blind – at least in sight. Oh, no. He was simply blind to the number of people he’d killed. In fact, he’d killed so many people for whatever reasons he might have had, that he once asked a group of men if they’d ever heard of Bad Devil John. When they answered in the affirmative, he then informed them that Bad Devil John was a real wimp in comparison to him.

Must’ve asked them just before he killed them. I say that because Bad Blind Noah lived to be about 87.

With that, I’d heard enough, thank you.

As I replayed the events of the reunion and accompanying stories, I questioned why I couldn’t have the bloodline I’d so come to discover.

After a little thought, I realized I encompass just enough of every ancestor to be exactly who I am. Mixed with enough of me to pass along to future generations, I guess I’m simply thankful I won’t be there for the reunion in 2209. I’d like to think they’ll be talking about me though – and Bad Devil John and Bad Blind Noah.

Although they didn’t prove to be my connection to a double line descendant of the Revolution, I think Bad Devil John and Bad Blind Noah would say the same thing I’m saying now. Talk about me all you want. Just spell my name right…

liz pic-Liz

Enjoy your Coffee Break!

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