Bunker Mulligan "Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry." ~Mark Twain

This week I’m operating on someone else’s computer using a dial-up connection. Having grown used to my own screen setup and high-speed connection, it is a bit frustrating to wait and wait.

Another issue, though, is that the cookies have somehow excluded me from responding to comments. The web site considers me to be logged in at all times, even though I’m not. And when I try to post comments on my own site, I’m told to not be so stupid and just continue reading rather than trying to write.

Anyway, I just wanted to let all my commenters know that I haven’t put you on “IGNORE”.

Yes, I considered common differences between siblings before writing, but the contrast was so striking I had to comment.

I’ve watched Dorf. His game is better than mine was yesterday.

Bubba, from reading your comments I think you’ll do just fine.

Okay, just a few responses. Maybe I’ll figure out what the issue is with the cookies. Nah. Too many other things to do right now!

Watching the local news with Dad, and they have a report on a highway wreck where several children were injured or killed. One was two years old. In the film, a police officer is taking notes for his report, leaning into the damaged car. He is partially obscured by someone, but those broad shoulders and large upper arms are unmistakable–my son.

Next, interview with Officer Matt: “Parents need to take responsibility for their children’s safety in the car. Kids can’t think for themselves in regards to their need to determine the best way to secure themselves in a car seat when they are this young.” Dimples and all, very professional. Needs a haircut.

I am often amazed at how professional my children are in their work. I shouldn’t be, because responsibility is something I worked hard to teach them growing up. I didn’t praise them effusively, or without warrant. They knew from Dad exactly how they had performed. When I gave them criticism, they understood the intent, and knew why I dealt with them in the way I did. They didn’t always like it. But they also appreciated praise when it came because they knew I was sincere and not just trying to make them feel good. I did that, too–when they really needed it. They understood the difference.

But they are also my very good friends. I think we have a pretty good bond–between all of us.

I’m proud of all my kids. But you knew that, didn’t you?

Here I am.

Beautiful weather all the way here, and it’s simply gorgeous here–no wind, cool, but not cold. Hard to believe the weather is going to change for the worse. I’m thinking I need to hit the driving range tomorrow after the mess that yesterday was for golf. There are two definite tee shots on these courses where I definitely need to hit a draw, and my normal shot with the driver is a fade. I wanted to work on that yesterday, and actually did hit a draw on demand–I think. With the wind it was hard to tell. I could have hit severe slices that only looked like draws!

Actually, one of my approach shots was a definite fade which the wind carried left so that it hit the green, bounced left, and kept going as the wind blew it upslope across the green to the left-hand fringe.

Nah. I’ll just carry the putter with me tomorrow when we sign in and try to get a feel for the speed on these greens.