It was a long drive to Wisconsin from Florida, not only in time and distance, but in contemplation as well.  I have made too many bad decisions in my life to still be around.  Yet here I am.  For what purpose?  If I were a believing man, I would say there is something left for me to do or actually do something.  Up to this point, my life has been pretty much of a waste.  So how, at 62 years old, do I turn that around?  I have so many people to ask forgiveness from starting with my family.  I have taken so much from them and not given anything back except my presence.  My mother, who is now 99, has always been there for me.  My son has grown into a good person in spite of me.  My brother, who has had problems of his own has always taken the time to help me.  What can I give them in return?  I have nothing of value.  I have squandered everything.  There was a time that I had certain talents, but I have wasted them also.  I have been so selfish with everything.  I am like a sterile  tree that yields no fruit nor ever flowers.  So what can I give back?  The story of how I came to be me?

I've been thinking a lot about LOVE lately.  We certainly throw the word around lightly.  Oh, I love the way those Christmas lights twinkle.  I love to watch that little kitten play with the ball of yarn. These are expressions we use all the time, everyday. The English language, when it comes to certain words, can be so limited.  I'm sure people are expressing how much they enjoy those things and how it makes them feel, but love?  The early Grecian philosophers and linguists were specific with their words.  Many Christians have heard of the word Agape which means a deep sacrificial love, a love that speaks with actions not just words (I sound a little bitter).  Then there is Eros, need I say any more?  Philos, the love of mankind or a generalized love of things.  Then there is Storge the love parents feel for their offspring and sometimes referring to putting up with things or people.  See you next time.

I am a little amused that I have had 19 views on this blog.  They were all probably me.  Anyway, things are going from tolerable to intolerable to downright dismal.  I believe I read once that pigs were one of the more intelligent of the farm animals; I don't think that's true at least not this pig.   My already weak spirit is hemorrhaging the dreams, hopes, and inspiration that I once had. I've always been prone to depression, it runs in the family, but I've never experienced this deep of despair. Oh well, life goes on and on and on.  I just wonder which one of Dante's circles I am in.  I'll talk to you all later.