VoicePost 108K 0:37

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Mike Leberman: sailor on the Great Lakes, member of the army of occupation, B-29 Bomber pilot, rocketeer, faithful to the end, and a patriotic soul...Happy Memorial Day dearest one.

Today me and Mike got out to the farm around 6 and worked till 11, came home ate some soup, and watched an old episode of Perry Mason called Case of the One Eyed Witness. It was good.

Mike got up to go into the kitchen and I got up and followed him. I was struck with the feeling like I was going to turn the corner and see that Dad was home and I was going to say say hi.

I felt a moment of sadness as reality set in but almost at the same time I started thinking of a song that we used to like to dance to. A fun party song whose melody hints of martinis and beer, and whirling dancing frivolity.

Remember when he and his friends sent that cease and desist letter to his neighbors (http://susangalique.livejournal.com/270221.html?thread=588429) who kept calling the cops on their parties. It was music like this that kept them dancing past midnight.

THis is called Rosita my Love by The Four Aces. Its an old 33 1/2, and a bit scratchy but I thought it recorded well considering. I had to turn my speakers down for extortion. (B, this might be the infusion you need till the week.) I hope someone out there will find themselves happy and dancing to the exotic melody like I do.

VoicePost 421K 2:25

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Found this letter tucked away. Dad and his buddies use to have the most enormous parties in the swinging 60s. He would tell us about them. Feb. and March must have been really great party months because they had to threaten their neighbors to stop calling the police on them. Although the cops would pull up and join the party.

Didn't they know that engineers in the 1960s could party as much as they wanted to in Huntsville!

( See Letter )

my morning configuration of Jefferson Airplanes Wooden Ship. My poor dad is going to make his relish if it kills him. He is like Robins- Crusoe with his little tin bucket of pear shavings!

Good morning so far. I miss my gym partner. Nothing matters when she is there. I feel so out of place with all the well kept women of Jones Valley. I feel like a wild thing in there. I don't know why I cant remember to put my hair up. I don't know. I like it down around my neck. I could not even brush through it this morning! nor put it back in braids.

I did see the man I dub the Patron. Who is he? Well, he is the most kind and considerate, bright and shinning, multi-million-er triathlon athlete in Huntsville. I did not even recognize him with his goggles on until he waved to me as I went in to the dry sauna. If you don't count the fact that was entering the sauna without changing or removing my socks and shoes, at least I was not doing something way stupid, like the last time I saw him.
He came in and saw me before I saw him. I was staring into space thinking about my plan of action. I hear a voice, "Are you lost?" What I wanted to say was "Not all who wander are lost" but I settled on..."No,(big smile) just thinking." " I see that" he replied.

I am so happy that god gave us muses.