Jon and the Soup

I'm standing on the right side of the picture, and my brother Jon is sitting in the high chair.  I am probably about 4 in this picture and Jon about 1 year old plus a couple of months maybe.  My shirt was red, with a black placket and collar.  I was going through a cowboy phase that lasted several years, and I would only wear Levi's 501's, and cowboy shirts, and usually cowboy boots too, to the extent possible.  This is a cowboy shirt, at least, that is what my mother told me, because I would not wear it otherwise.  I believed it to be an authentic cowboy shirt, because I knew that cowboy shirts had snaps instead of buttons, and this particular shirt has snaps, rather than buttons, therefore, it passed muster as a cowboy shirt, and I believed my mother.

The reason I posted the photo though is because around the same time, there was a very memorable meal.  One of the few meals I remember from this age.  Mom had made us Campbell's tomato soup.  Jon was wearing a white onesie and a bib, and sitting is this very high chair, which by the way has held me, all my siblings, all of my nieces and nephews, and most of my kids, and is still giving service in my parents home. 

It may have been late afternoon, at any rate Jon was tired.  Mom gave us each a bowl of soup and then stepped away.  I watch Jon start nodding off.  I was on the edge of my seat as his little head dipped forward, closer and closer, until with one last nod, he plunged his face into the soup. 

Instantly he woke, screaming, with a perfect mask of orange soup from his neck, to the top of his head.  I laughed and laughed, as it was the funniest thing I had ever seen in my life to that point.  Mom came rushing in to see her baby covered in soup, crying like a banshee.  She scolded me for not warning her of the impending catastrophe, but I was laughing to hard for it to have any impact.

So much for my New Year's Revolution

So last night I was going to write a post about how I had already done three posts in a row, and how that had exceeded my expectations, but then, I didn't post.  I totally met my expectations!  Now I predict that I will feebly type one more (apologetic) post next week, promising to do better, then nothing till next January.

I am really hoping to get in the habit of writing a little bit.  I am old.  I feel old.  I don't feel like I have a lot of time left, and that's fine with me.  I would, however, like to leave something behind for my kids or grandkids to read, to know a little about who I was and what I thought about.  I have a number of two or three page "personal histories" written by some of my forebears, and they are a treasure. I also have a lot of ancestors that left little or no trace behind.  I feel much less close to those people.  I hope what I have written, or will write, will be of some benefit to my descendants, if only to understand that everyone's life is a mix of fun and sorrow.

Jail

I spend a lot of time in jail.  I have spent more time in jail than most of my clients. Jails are not very effective at treating mental health problems, or substance abuse. Today I went to see my client, but he was naked and screaming, so the guards didn't bring him out.  That's too bad because he is only looking at 7 days, and he's already done more than that, but a couple of weeks ago he quit taking his meds, so now he will spend months locked up while he is found competent, or not.

After failing to see my first client I drove an hour to Dover to see another client.  He is very polite and well spoken.  I have been dreading going up to see him, and I put it off as long as I could, but he was just happy to see me. He is in quite a bit of trouble, but we'll see how things turn out.

New Year's Revolution

One of my goals for 2015 is to write more on my blog.  Today was a nice lazy day, Wisconsin upset Auburn and Oregon creamed Florida State.  I accomplished nothing, but I enjoyed myself.  I'm reading Illium.  It's  pretty good.