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  A Joyous Sound I can't say my father did not like music.  It's just that I never saw him listen to music.  Ever.  My mother, on the other hand, loved music.  She was an  amateur guitar and accordion player and like me, only played for her personal enjoyment. We never had a record player growing up.  Mom listened to AM radio, mostly WOWO and they had a limited selection of music.   She favored country and old time gospel music and listened to it mostly in the car.   All that changed late in 1962. My sister Dee was born in Sept, 1962.  I was 14 and my brother Chuck was 10.  Two much older brothers that loved the new baby dearly. Dee started out a normal baby.  When she was about two months or so old, she started crying.....all day and most of the night.  The family doctor said she had colic and treated her for it.   She still would not stop crying. Mom was exhausted, staying up most of the night rocking and cuddling her.  Mom, Chuck and I decided to assign shifts to care for De
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Violet Elaine Boice I have always believed I inherited my mother's love of music and her fear of the poverty she knew as a child. Mom was the daughter of a tenant farmer, she was born during the depression.  She grew up poor in rural Indiana.  There is no denying it. Her father's first wife died of kidney failure at the age of 20 in 1925.  John was 25, Myrtle 16 when they married.  John was left with a 4 year old boy and a 1 year old girl to raise. John married Laura Linton in 1928.  John was 33 and Laura 26.  John had raised his two children for 3 years with the help of Myrtle's parents.   John and Laura had four girls, my mother was the oldest.  Life was tough. There were 9 mouths to feed, including Laura's mother who lived with the family. Mom's father died in 1947.  All four girls were still at home.  John was 51 years old.  Step siblings George was 26, Evaleen 23.  Violet was 18, Ellen 16, Dorothy 10,  Joyce 7. I believe this picture was taken shortly after Mom

A State Of Mind

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Leaving Latta Lake Well, we departed Latta Lake after living there full time for 9 years and owning rental property for about 20.  It was a bittersweet breakup.  I am going to miss all my vegetable and flower gardens, my intercourse with all the fishermen, the wildlife and the beauty of a sunrise each morning, over the lake. I won't miss the long trips to find a decent restaurant or grocery store.  I won't miss drive 35 miles to Mass every Sunday.  I won't miss being removed from the creature comforts I yearn for, at 72 years of age.  We won't talk about winter and the struggle to get up our steep road when the snow flies. The biggest reason we moved will seem trite to some people.  Linda and I are walkers.  Real walkers.  We spend a couple hours each day walking and Latta Lake had nearby trails, that were accessible if you drove.  We wanted to walk out the door with our dogs and walk in a safe, comfortable environment.  So, we sold the lake house, and had a villa custo
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We live on this lake in northern Indiana. It is not a large lake, about 50 acres or so. Just big enough. My family owns most of the lakefront property. It has been handed down from generation to generation. My wise grandfather bought it about 1954. It is a special place. We allow fishermen to launch their boats for a fee of $3.00. It is on the honor system and most are honorable people. I have often thought that honor and fishingwent hand in hand. Other than the occasional fisherman, we seldom see outsiders onour lake, especially in the winter. I like that. Our lake has a soul. It lives and breathes like any of God's creatures. It even suffers. I think of this lake as a member of the family, a kind, giving uncle if you please. The lake talks to me in the morning as I sit out on the patio drinking my coffee.  Sandhill cranes, splashing bass, honking geese........our lake has many voices. When I am hungry, the lake provides me with food. When I am hot and stressed, the lake

Civility

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We currently live in the most densely populated county in the state of Florida. No, it isn't the Miami area, we live in the Tampa Bay metro area. We have lots of sun, warm weather and beaches. We also have more people per square mile than any other area in Florida. It's the people I don't like. When the human race lives in this sort of chaos, the simple act of civility toward your fellow man seems to disappear . We get on each other's nerves. I see road rage on a daily basis, if the clerk at the 7-11 takes too much time checking us out, we get irritated beyond the norm of civil behavior. Those of us from the New York, New Jersey area are the worst. They have escaped from that hell of extreme population density to Florida. Upmost in their minds is to make Florida just like what they left, and complain about Florida at every chance. They are part of the problem. Here is the funny part. Those sun lovers who moved here, and spoiled the area, are now m

Life on the lake.

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We are soon leaving Florida and will return to Indiana, after almost thirty years. Everyone says we are crazy, especially those from Indiana. I think they are wrong. We are moving to a much smaller house, on a small lake in Northern Indiana. It is not a large body of water, about 50 acres. Just big enough. My family owns most of the lakefront property. It has been handed down from generation to generation. My wise grandfather bought in about 1948. It is a special place. We allow fishermen to launch their boats for a fee of $3.00. It is on the honor system and most are honorable people. I have often thought that honor and fishing went hand in hand. Other than the occasional fisherman, we seldom see outsiders on our lake, especially in the winter. I like that. Our lake has a soul. It lives and breathes like any of God's creatures. It often suffers. I think of this lake as a member of our family, a kind, giving uncle if you please. The lake talks to me i

The Stare.

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You know the one I am talking about. When they pull their cell phone out of their pocket and give it the stare. It could also be called a glare, it is intense. They just stared at their phone two minutes ago, but there they go again. What exactly are they waiting for? One would think they were praying to some cellular god that lives inside their phone. "Please god, have someone call or text me". I am so lonely. Cell phones, like computers, have empowered the meekest and weakest of us with a sense of power. Someone has texted me, therefore, I am important. If I were to miss a call......it would be the end of the world, as we know it. I spend a lot of time waiting in airports. I feel like Woody Allen, observing life on this planet. For the most part, everyone in the airport is looking at their cell phone. That L.E.D. light emitting from the phone shines on their face. Perhaps God is really talking to them from his enlightened throne. I am no exce