Hi, I'm Snazzy and I'm Trucker

Sorry i wouldn't know one GI Joe from Adam's Ox. I do know that my Aunt recently went into a retirement home. My cousins, ( her son and four daughters), went to war over them. Last I heard there was some sort of judgement and all the Joe's were placed in protective custody pending the court's ruling. Sad how families behave like vultures at times. My 84 year old neighbor recently went into the same retirement home my aunt is in. Her family won't even visit her, but they sure were quick to sell her house, car, furniture, and all else. Makes you not want to get old. Fortuneately for me all my kids will have to fight over is who gets the bones. Oh my aunt did amass most of the Joes before they became popular. As time passed she became aware of the value and started searching on Ebay and hitting the garage sales. I was surprised how many folks kept those things for so long. My X wife collected cappage patch dolls and the last I heard they're worth big bucks. Funny how times changes the value of things except for humans and pets.

 

Again, thanks for all the welcomes. I've already thanked Baack and Ducks. Now thank you Kitty, Attitude,Peeping Tom, and Two Cycle. Poor Two Cycle not knowing what a blabber mouth and bored person I am asked me the unthinkable. So whatelse have I done. Well, put on a pot of coffee and pack a lunch. Here we go! I was born in 1952 at Carswell AFB. My Dada was a SSGT. in the Air Force and my Mom was a stay at home mother of 3. That explains my 2 older sisters. Dad wasn't home much due to the Korean conflict. He was a radio tech and was too good at what he did. His crew were at the top of the list of get her done. His ability to fix and upgrade the coded transmissions in the box kept them hopping all over. Dad also was an expert in the art of bending his elbow. Seems Mom wasn't all that impressed and we took our toys and went home to Mother. Of course that was my Grandmother and in my opinion one of the finest humans who ever lived. Grandma, mother, and two older sisters raised me. Grandpa was blind so we all took part in caring for him. Poor man also had cancer that ate his body away a day at a time. He was retired from the Army as a Captain and also retired from the postoffice. We lived in a mansion compared to most of the other folks living in the area. We didn't have alot of money and my Mom didn't buy a car untill I about 6 years old. It was a 1954 Chvey, 4 door, with an inline 6, automatic, blue and white, with cloth interrior. Think she paid about $500.00 bucks and named her Evey the Chevy. I was a mixed up kid always taught to standup for whats right. Do into others, as you'd have them do into you. Turn the other cheeck. Always wear fresh underwear. My biggest problem was my size. I was a runt that many thought was going to be a midget. Mom took me to Doctor who decided that I was just a runt and not to worry. I had nose bleeds to end all nose bleeds. More than once after 24 hours of nonstop bleeding ended in a trip to the emergency room. I couldn't play contact sports, go outside if it was over 90 degrees, and above all pick my nose. Ill break here to see if I've bored you all away.

 

Okay Ducks as long as I have one pigeon, err Duck, I'll continue. Hopefully all the potions and lotions worked and your not a bald eagle. Now where were we ? I'm still unsure how much my size had to with how I grew up. For the better or worse? I'd like to think that being disadvantaged might of helped make me stronger. But, who knows? It could be that it helps me rationalize why I was always a bit of an outsider. Spoiled rotten, but the sweetest kid around. Teachers praised me for being so well behaved. Old folks couldn't help patting me on the head. Others kids didn't know how to deal with me. I was the first one to share my sack lunch with anyone in need. My milk money was never taken cause beating on the runt back then wasn't a popular sport. Most the bullies lived by certain rules. Beating up a popular kid, muchless one that wouldn't hit back was a no no. It wasn't untill one day that my sister was hit by a neighbor boy that I came out of my small shell. She ran in the house crying and I put up dukes. The kid didn't know what to do. Hell, beating up a girl was bad enough. Now he faced a whimp in a fight that he couldn't win. If he beat me to a pulp then he'd lose respect for smacking a runt who was taking up for his sister. If he somehow lost the fight,(struck by lightning, died laughing, or some other way) he'd been known by the kid that the runt whipped. He did the most practacal thing. He said he was sorry, shook my hand, and rode off on his bicycle, followed by his buddies. I still laugh thinking back on it. I'd bet my sister on a good day would of kicked the boy's behind over his shoulders. Just cause she cried didn't matter. As I was walking back to the house she came out with a baseball bat. No more tears, but blood in her eyes. We'll take a quick break here and check on the bored to tears issue.