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| Ron and little brother Roger |
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| Joey |
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| Ryan |
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. -- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
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| "Who you gonna call?" |
Changes in the wind said...
Lynn said...
Jan said...
Tabor said...
cube said...
Barb said...
Elephant's Child said...
Birdie said...
Arkansas Patti said...
Brite Mist said...
Brighid said...
Olga Hebert said...
Sonny G said...
Lisa said...
Snaggle Tooth said...
Kerry said...
Kerry said...
Lisa said...
Lynn said...

LL Cool Joe said...
Lynn said...
G. B. Miller said...
Sparkling Red said...

There was an incident, about 10 years ago - that something very upsetting happened to me and I was driving home and meant to call the younger sister, but called the older one instead. When I started talking to her, I burst into tears (unusual for me) and she cried with me. So I should not sell her short - she is there for me, too - I just have to ask.
Jan said...
I hate the phone. I use it only for business so no one.
But, I don't call it in to them, because I always think I should be able to handle stuff.
At a party now instead of sleeping...