My Neice and Nephew were airlifted to the munk compound a couple days ago. All we had to do was drive them back from the airport. The Kid almost blew it in Denver; he wanted a smoke, and by the time he found one outside and on the other end of the terminal his flight was about to leave. With some histrionics and rapid instructions by cell phone, he managed to get to the pavement in front of the plane and was hurried inside. His parents were upset via telephone, his Sister calm and par for course with exploits of Kid being routine. It was she who'd orchestrated the comeback, the save. The Kid is two years older, in age anyway.
The Kid is doing better. He was throwing his life away and was put in lock- down schools for the interim. I guess you can't do that to someone forever. They either graduate, join the Army, die or land in jail. But the Kid skated. He's done a lot of skating. I have too and you can't fool me.
So here they are in Montana. They got to see some antelope and elk, and a whole pile of deer. The Kid seems happy. Yesterday they barged in the house at about 10:30 PM after fishing. One fish was caught by my son Carter. Nice fish. The Kid helped him with the pole and reeling him in, and I shook his hand and thanked him. He felt good about that. I'm glad he did. At the fishing hole he got so frustrated he wasn't catching anything that he climbed into the truckbed and cooled for an hour. Too bad I wasn't there. I could have told him most of us cooled it by the bank of the lake while we were fishing.
I drove his Sister to see the spot where the Nez Perce were beaten by the railroad at last and stopped from reaching the freedom of Canada. They weren't very far from the line. They'd almost made it.
The Kid has floppy curls on his head and the ladies can't leave him alone. He looks adorable. Cabbage Patch Teenager. They say he'll enter community college next year, and I actually think he will too. It was pretty close for him, taking all those chemicals and reaching the Psych Ward the way he had. I wished I could have spent some time with him earlier, when he was 12. I'd asked nicely but his mother would not let him come. I was a little extreme for the County of Maryland in which he was secured. I was an NRA guy who'd married a Christian, and lived in the wilds of Montana.... teaching him to shoot might give him ideas, see....
The whole load of them, three of my little ones, the two big ones, and my wife set out in the truck to go fishing again this evening. They'll have to tie their own lines, detangle their own messes, and gut their own food. I'm not there to do those things. The Kid was- and it was he who'd helped Carter with his big fish.
Tomorow night we'll go see the Rancher who has half my forge. We'll pound steel for the first time. My neice will swing the hammer right next to me. She's a tough, neat lady. When she grows up and gets away from that Secure County and the cell phone and the Kid she'll do alright.
I love everyone in that truck, and hope they all learn to fish. It probably will not get done tonight. It will take a little time. That's good.
The Kid is doing better. He was throwing his life away and was put in lock- down schools for the interim. I guess you can't do that to someone forever. They either graduate, join the Army, die or land in jail. But the Kid skated. He's done a lot of skating. I have too and you can't fool me.
So here they are in Montana. They got to see some antelope and elk, and a whole pile of deer. The Kid seems happy. Yesterday they barged in the house at about 10:30 PM after fishing. One fish was caught by my son Carter. Nice fish. The Kid helped him with the pole and reeling him in, and I shook his hand and thanked him. He felt good about that. I'm glad he did. At the fishing hole he got so frustrated he wasn't catching anything that he climbed into the truckbed and cooled for an hour. Too bad I wasn't there. I could have told him most of us cooled it by the bank of the lake while we were fishing.
I drove his Sister to see the spot where the Nez Perce were beaten by the railroad at last and stopped from reaching the freedom of Canada. They weren't very far from the line. They'd almost made it.
The Kid has floppy curls on his head and the ladies can't leave him alone. He looks adorable. Cabbage Patch Teenager. They say he'll enter community college next year, and I actually think he will too. It was pretty close for him, taking all those chemicals and reaching the Psych Ward the way he had. I wished I could have spent some time with him earlier, when he was 12. I'd asked nicely but his mother would not let him come. I was a little extreme for the County of Maryland in which he was secured. I was an NRA guy who'd married a Christian, and lived in the wilds of Montana.... teaching him to shoot might give him ideas, see....
The whole load of them, three of my little ones, the two big ones, and my wife set out in the truck to go fishing again this evening. They'll have to tie their own lines, detangle their own messes, and gut their own food. I'm not there to do those things. The Kid was- and it was he who'd helped Carter with his big fish.
Tomorow night we'll go see the Rancher who has half my forge. We'll pound steel for the first time. My neice will swing the hammer right next to me. She's a tough, neat lady. When she grows up and gets away from that Secure County and the cell phone and the Kid she'll do alright.
I love everyone in that truck, and hope they all learn to fish. It probably will not get done tonight. It will take a little time. That's good.
