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"You're not old, you're Poppa!"  She said as she kissed me.  How right you are little girl. 

I started this blog with a fondness of wanting to recapture the feeling I got when I put pen to paper.  With it came a sense of permanency that once sketch I could puff-up and admire myself.  "Silly Poppa, it's just pretend..."  Right you are daughter.

So I make a new promise: I will refrain, curb, abutt, hinder (                       ), any sense that this will be worth reading.

It is my hope that I reflect on the first half of my life (assume I live to be quite old), that it will guide me in making the best choice for me and my family.


"Come with me Poppa, I have a Present for you."  Right you are, again.