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Good morning to you.

June 11, 2016
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Our house

I did get up at 0300, or thereabouts, but I couldn’t get my eyes to point together.  I even tried a cup of coffee with a spoonful of ice cream.  That almost synched things, so I tried reading with limited success.  I had bought a copy of Fifty-Six Counties, by the notable Billings author, Russell Rowland.  It will make an amazing gift, especially when it comes out in hardback.

Anyway, I went back to bed until seven, found a bug in the tub.  Liberated the bug out the back door.  Large for around here, it measured about two centimeters long.  I dropped it onto the barbecue grill, where it marched away.  Happily, I thought, because it seemed to swagger like Gunther.

I took my five prescription morning pills:  three for mental illness, one for prostate trouble, one for cardiovascular health.  Now I will awaken Gunther.

I am thinking of a time 56 years ago, when I was in the Marines, in jail.  Caged, like Gunther.  When the jailer brought breakfast to our cells, we sang spontaneously together, “Good morning to you!  Good morning to you!  We’re all in our places, with bright shining faces, good morning to you!”  Most of us were in jail for leaving the Marines and going home.  Me?  I had popped my C.O. in the chin with my fist.  Hey.  He asked me to do it.  That’s right.  He said, “Why don’t you put me on my back?”  Many of you have heard this story already.

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