Condemned bldg

4100 2015/10/03


It has been some time since I wrote anything on 4100 and you will note that I removed the Warehouse part of the title. It offended a few people who read my postings and I see where it might have. No offense was ever intended.
Things have been happening around here what with people coming and going. Some have taken their final trip and others have moved to long term care and some have just moved to what they claim are better residences. There are still one or two that should in care facilities but are still here. They either suffer from Alzheimer’s or a mental illness. One of them has almost started a fire twice by leaving a pot on the stove until it boils dry and causes the smoke alarm to go off. The residents who have mental problems exacerbate their condition by not taking their medication and as a result they say or do some weird things. Of course that could also apply to the writer as at times I do some weird things just for fun.
Those who read my posting know that I ride an E-Scooter as I don’t own a car. Well I just traded up to a new one. This one named (The Beast) is an 80 volt where my last one was only 60. The new scooter is lighter and 10kph faster than the Hurricane. This is my forth one and very well will be my last. Hey! Like my oldest said I’m still in my first childhood and having FUN. Anywho enough on me.
4100 hasn’t had any drastic changes. The Temptress is still here and still going to the mall and coming home with bargains. Pretty soon she is going to have to either get rid of some of her cloths or talk Housing in to making her closet bigger. Another friend got her first med-scooter and it is a pretty neat little thing. She asked and got a small one so she could get on the bus with it. A friend who shall remain unidentified went to a male strip club and seemingly had a blast. Something about a private lap dance. OK! I told her that as she goes to church that ole St. Pete would be marking that as an X on her record. Well at least she had fun. That’s the problem with young folk when it comes to us seniors. Just because we pass 65 doesn’t mean we lay down and wait for the undertaker. Most of us have lots of get up and go and like me intend to have fun. When the guy in black robes and a big scythe comes calling he’s getting a boot and told to come back when I’m good and ready. (WHICH WILL BE NEVER IF I CAN GET AWAY WITH IT).


Ministry of Truth (1984)



The other day I made the mistake of disagreeing with one of the lady tenants and I was told by her that I was off her list. It seems she has a list of people she will talk too and if you interrupt or disagree with her you are removed. For a brief second I thought I was standing in front of the Pope being excommunicated again. That’s OK as I self-excommunicated about 50 years ago. So here I stand exiled, proscribed and banned from communication with this person who seems to have delusions of aristocracy or at the very least the upper crust. I am putting this to paper before I am sentenced to Room 101.

At my age I have little or no patience with those who would put on airs and believe themselves to be above the common crowd. Everyone who resides in the building is retired and the rents are low and geared to income. It is community housing for all us Old Farts so this individual is in the same boat as the rest of us. There are only two places we can go after hear long term care or the cardboard box to the incinerator. These hoity toi hoi polio just don’t cut it with me. The really ironic thing about all this that it was a trivial disagreement on a historical note. Now I have been told by many people that I am very knowledgeable about history and I pride myself in this. This individual said something that I deemed historically wrong and I told her that I disagreed. Wrong thing to do. I think if she could have called the Palace Guard she would have ordered me beheaded. OUCH. So to this individual I am now persona non grata, a leper to be avoided at all cost. I am doomed to spend my remaining years mumbling to myself locked in my gloom in a one bedroom. O Father Zeus delay not over long in dispatching your Harpies for this Cretans soul and deliver me to my allotted place in Tartarus. Hey that’s a pretty elitist ending. Eh!

Uncategorized, WHATEVER


Maple Leaf 1

I have now resided at 4100 for 14 months and I guess the old adage is correct “Home is where you hang your hat”. Unless some unforeseen incident occurs this is my home until that final move into the unknown. I guess in actuality that isn’t so bad, after all I have met new friends and acquaintances and perhaps a few who do not like me that much. Hey that’s life isn’t it?
Here at 4100 we have as would be expected for a seniors’ apartment building a wide variety of individuals a hodgepodge of our society. I believe our tenants range from 65 to 95 in age and some are damn spry for being in their 90s’. We have a few cliques and gossips, recluses and loners. There are the angry and the cheerful. There are the shy and the gregarious the clannish and the religious, and a Pantheist, some would say clown. All in all a cross section of society. There are Chinese, Vietnamese, Korean, Egyptian, Russian, Portuguese, Dutch, Scots, English, and South Africans, a regular United Nations. The people come from all walks of life and many professions, Nurses, a Chef, Bus Driver, Auto Parts man, Retired Constables, and of course yours truly the “Not Resident Genius.”
After 14 months the place is starting to grow on me (I hear a good fungicide will take care of that) and I am resigned to my fate of spending my twilight years here. By the way that is not Twilight as in the “Twilight Zone”. If I’m lucky (I hope not) I’m good for another 20 years that will put me up to 2034. The most I could do is 2042, GODS forbid that would make me 100. If I could hang on to 2056, (unbloody likely) I could be here when Zephrem Cochrane invents the Faster than Light Drive in Star Trek. OH Boy! I gotta stop snorting the Windex.
There are a few tenants living here who should be in a place where they can be taken care of. Some have Alzheimer’s or Dementia, and some have psychological problems but so far they have not been a threat to themselves or others. Then of course there is the writer who is a complete nut bar and should have been carted off to the funny farm years ago. Guess they haven’t got a butterfly net big enough. As I said above the place is growing on me but before I become part of the fixtures in a few years I think I might just go along being the crackpot clown from the 3rd floor. Hey Guys the sideshow is free.



There seems to be a conspiracy aimed at me. It is in the form of what can only be called nagging and it relates to my not shaving as often as those who comment think I should. My answer is a resounding “TOUGH”. When I was in the Army I had to shave every day sometimes twice a day and of course when I was married it was the same situation. Well now that I am retired (Old Fart) single, unattached, and not on the hunt I will shave whenever I feel like it or if I have to go somewhere on an appointment or special gathering. Tis my face and I will scrape it when the itch gets unbearable. Also remember every time I shave I destroy the home of millions of mites and other microscopic creatures that take up residence in my whiskers. Sometimes I feel like a mass murderer.
The disposable razor, Weapon of Mass Destruction, which can be bought at any pharmacy or corner store. It is such an innocent looking weapon made in both the male and female variety’s with very little to distinguish between them with perhaps the colour. When first introduced the Mk1 had but one blade which was quickly followed by the MkII, III, and IV each successive mark adding blades and improving on its’ capability to mow the whiskers from ones face. Now what took 5 or6 stokes to accomplish takes only 2 or 3. Along with this new efficiency come greater killing power to eradicate whole populations of mites and whatever other creatures abide within the bearded face.

Picture if you will a normal day in Mite Ville population 20 billion or so, lovely place with lots of trees (Whiskers) and a plentiful food supply of dead skin cells. Now in this serene setting are millions of families with Daddy, Mommy, Billy, & Susie living their day to day lives without a care or a worry? With the exception of the odd quaking and rustle of the trees life is good. Then one day a white foamy mixture falls upon the landscape and the kids think this is great something new to play in. The poor little things don’t realize that this white foam is the prelude to disaster the forewarning of a disaster of such magnitude it boggles the mind to even contemplate it. You see behind that white innocent looking foam is the Weapon of Mass Destruction the likes of which they could not think of, not even in their wildest dreams. The Razor. This one is blue and has two cutting blades so sharp that the slightest pressure is all that is needed for them to rain devastation upon Mite Ville. As the ground (skin) quakes and the trees fall by the hundreds all a mite family can do is hold on and hope that the monster will pass. Alas it is not meant to be, the mites by their billions are uprooted and then washed away in a series of Tsunamis’ the likes of which they have never seen. Some by in ‘the red tide that can follow as the wielder of the razor nicks his flesh and the blood begins to pour. After the Weapon of Mass Destruction has done its’ work the last of the Tsunamis hits followed a rough scouring of the landscape then a blistering evapouration of any residue including the bodies of the dead and dying. What was once the peaceful borough of Mite Ville now is a barren wasteland. Wait though as hope does spring eternal for within a few hours of this holocaust life begins to reassert itself upon the landscape and new trees start to rise and with them the birth of a new generation of mites. Alas the cycle repeats itself every few days and for some everyday.

So dear friends ends my tale of destruction. This tale and its’ consequences is the reason I do not shave every day because carrying the burden of such total annihilation weighs heavy upon my spirit and I endeavour to prolong the life of our little microscopic friends for as long as possible.



I have a tenant who we will call “G” who is dying of lung cancer. It is only a matter of time and his daughter informed me to-day that he will be going to a Hospice which specializes in end of life Palliative Care. G is a wiry tough old bird  in his early seventies who is a retired Bell Lineman. He moved in just over three years ago and , to me at least ,has always been a friendly pleasant chap. I really don’t know much about G other than he has at least one son and daughter and he worked for Ma Bell. I guess the reason I’m writing about him is he is the second tenant this year who has passed away or will shortly and  both in their seventies and that’s where I am. To tell the truth I am surprised that I have made it this far because there were a few times when I fully expected to meet the Grim Reaper. The last time I went under the knife to have a ruptured Femoral Artery repaired I remember saying to myself just before I went out you are not waking up from this one David. I was the most surprised patient in that recovery room when I heard my oldest daughter telling me to wake up. Couldn’t believe it. I remember thinking later that I must be one rotten S.O.B. because as they say only the good die young. Guess the Universe still has some use for me.

When you see people you know in your own age bracket start to pass away it sort of gets’ you thinking. It is almost an involuntary reaction as you start examining  your life and how you lived it.  I am neither Saint nor Sinner just your average Hominid, getting by. It has been all in all a pretty average normal life. I’ve done some traveling and had a few adventures. Loved and Lost. Fathered two beautiful daughters which are by far my greatest of achievements. I have read an awful lot of books; REALLY AN AWFUL LOT OF BOOKS.  You see I have this addiction to History. Son-in-law says I should have been a Historian/Professor but I chose a different road to go down. Maybe the next time around I will. That is if I have any say in the matter. The Universes’ priorities might not be the same as mine.

It is an undisputed fact that when we are young we think we are immortal and thinking such we sometimes do some pretty stupid things. It is amazing that as we age we seem to look before we leap. When I look back and think of some of the situations I got myself into it is surprising I’m still here. Take the fact that at age 24 I join a foreign army engaged in a war and go off to fight. I not only do my one year in combat I volunteer for an extra year. Never finished the full second year as I got badly burnt and had to be evacuated. The best thing that came out of that was I met my ex-wife got married and we had two daughters. Now here I am in my seventieth year and my parents and all but one aunt and one uncle are all gone. So far none of my cousins  have passed away and anyway as I’m the oldest I’ll more than likely be the first.

I constantly make jokes about death and dying. Why not I’m not afraid and it is inevitable. You know what they say about death and taxes. They’re a fact of life. My employer gets worried if I don’t call her every morning Monday to Friday. I tell her not to because if I die I’ll phone her and let her know. She still worries. Hell why fear or worry about it,  there’s nothing you can do to stop it. I mean I’m not looking forward to it mainly because my life is pretty good and I’d like to hang around a bit longer just to piss off any enemies that I may have. There is also the fact that my Mom use to say I was going to burn in hell and to be honest I don’t relish that as I’m not a hot weather person. 



My oldest daughter decided she wanted the sink in one of her bathrooms changed because the enamel had chipped and it was rusting so she asked old Dad if I would help her husband replace it. Because I was getting a free meal  (my oldest is a great cook) I jumped at the chance. Now I have changed every Vanity sink in the  building I manage so I can practically do it in my sleep. Well it must be the fact that I was in a strange environment , her house, because what should have been a routine job turned into a comedy of errors and screw ups.

The project started with a trip to Home Depot ( never have figured out how they get Depot out of (DE  POT). I know it’s French. My son-in-law “G”. picked me up at my place around 4:20 pm and off we went heading for the Home Depot on the way to his place. Crossing 12 Mile Creek, (Bronte Creek) we head west towards Burlington turning north on Great Lakes Blvd. which merges with Burloak Rd. It’s called that because half the road is in Oakville and half in Burlington. Kind of makes sense. So far so good ,as we arrive at our first destination park the car and enter the store. Now this is only the second time I have been in this Depot as I use the one in Oakville 99% of the time, so I’m lost. I don’t know didelly squat where anything is. Now you would think that being the super franchise that it is all the stores would be laid out the same way. Yeah O.K who am I kidding. After searching for awhile(I’m getting ready to call Search and Rescue)  we find the bathroom sinks and get what we thought was the one we needed. We read the label on the shelf and the numbers matched what my daughter had found in the internet. Should’ve read the carton. One would think that as we were in the area where the sinks and bathtubs were that the plumbing supplies would be close to hand. No, they it ends up are at the other end of the store. Which according to my calculations was half way to Montreal. I am 5’7″ but when we left the store I had lost an inch from wearing my feet down walking all over the place.

O.K. we have gotten what we need and it’s off to the house. Upon arrival after saying Hi I ask which bathroom because there are 3 of them,2 upstairs and one on the main floor. I am hoping it’s the one on the main because my legs do not like stairs. Guess what? It’s the small bathroom upstairs. By the time I got up there my legs were calling me every profane name in the book. Why can’t they build houses with escalators?  I have now arrived at the job site and proceed to remove the old sink and the first thing I discover is that there are no shut off valves under the sink and we have to turn the water off in the whole house. This will not happen again as luckily I had 2 small valves in my tool box and they are now installed. This is not the end with the valves. Now the first of the screw ups happens. I ask “G” to go down and slowly turn the water back on so I can check for leaks. I don’t know how it happened but while looking for signs of leaking I managed to hit the handle for the cold water valve getting blasted right between the eyes with a stream of water under pressure. I thought I had been shot by a water cannon. I also hit the back of my head on the underside of the vanity top. My daughter who is in her bedroom doing something hears the commotion and comes running asking what happened and if I’m O.K. It is then that she sees the mess. There is water dripping from the ceiling, running down the wall and mirror, all over the vanity top, and her father looks like the cat that fell in the toilet. All I can say is “Sorry”. It is also at this time that she notices that we have the wrong sink. Like I said “should’ve read the carton”. Although she didn’t really get angry methinks she was not to happy. She must have been thinking that the Keystone Kops had invaded her house. Anyway “G” packs up the sink and returns it for exchange. In the mean time I clean up the mess and take the faucets off the old sink only to discover that because I have installed shut offs the faucets will not fit now. Poor “G”, he just returns from the store only to find that he has to go back to get a new set of taps. By this time I am convinced that this job is cursed. Somebody up there doesn’t like me and I’m being punished for all my past transgressions.  Finally “G” returns and I install the taps and sink hook everything up with no further mishap and it’s time to eat. All’s well that ends well and the beef stew was excellent. I know though that at some point in the future this little incident will be brought up in conversation and “Old Dad” will be the butt of a few comments all said in jest. I hope. Anyway I’m an electrician not a plumber.





As the New year approaches, just 21 days, I am contemplating what I will Grouse, Muse, or Opinionate about over the next 12 months. The Circus Maximus, (American Election), is over and that source of targets has retreated for another 4 years. Of course the Yanks, their politics and culture are still available. Then there is my favourite bugaboo, Religion, in which there is never a shortage of topics to pontificate on. In the past year I have pretty well stayed away from commenting on Canadian Politics, but methinks that is about to change. One always looks for greener pastures until one realizes that there is a very fertile plot of land right under your nose. It has to be admitted that politics in Canada does have some ripe topics and characters within its’ folds, such as the 10 Premiers and their cronies. Of course the real source of grist for the mill is  Parliament. Not the institution but the numbskulls that get elected to sit there. Of course we cannot forget that illustrious “Body of Second Sober Thought”, The Senate. Now if there ever was a target worthy of siege it has to be the “Upper Chamber”. The “Old Boys Club’ for political hacks has long outlived its’ day and should have been relegated to the dustbin years ago.

We all know that in Parliament there are 3 main Political Parties, The Conservative, who govern, Her Majesty Loyal Opposition the N.D.P.(New Democratic Party),and the Liberals (who got their butts kicked in the last election)  and each has plenty of Benchers worthy of criticism if not outright ridicule. It is also common knowledge that our Parliamentary debates use to have some decorum, but it seems that since the Conservative have gained power that decorum has gone the way of the Dodo. Both the debates and Question Period have become rather rancorous. Add that to the fact that the Harper Conservatives are less open with information than any previous government has been. It could almost be said that the Conservatives are as open to attack as the American Republicans are. Hell they even have some Evangelicals within their ranks. Unfortunately so far they have not provided much fodder as they seem to stay in the background. Every now and then though one of them just can’t stay quiet and lets loose with some foolish absurd comment.

No political system is perfect. Some like ours when applied properly are more perfect than others. When misapplied or abused then it is time for the People to say so and if necessary remove the offenders from office. I for one will be voicing my opinions one way or the other. I am not a political expert but I do know when something smells or doesn’t sit right and I intend to say so. Actually because I was so enthralled with watching and reading about the U.S. Election I missed a few opportunities to critize  some of the screw up of the Conservatives and the elections in Quebec with the old nemesis the P.Q. back to make things miserable for the rest of the country.  Come the New Year I will definitely be paying more attention to what goes on in our Fair Land. Just to make things clear I do not like Stevie and his Boys but I will try to be unbiased by making all party screw ups fair game.




Last night laying in bed closer to asleep than awake my mind started racing down this road towards a large sign post marked PHILOSOPHY. Which is really weird as what I know about philosophy wouldn’t even cover a postage stamp. In fact I had to look it up in the Dictionary to find out the real meaning of it. So a Philosopher I ain’t.

To show my complete ignorance of the subject, outside of existentialism, I don’t even know the names of most philosophies. I think the only reason I know about it is because I watched the movie “The Fountain Head”. The reason I watched the movie was Patricia Neal, methinks at that time in my life I was in love with her. She was not only beautiful but talented. Anyway Ayn Rand espousing the individual over the collective was my first and only brush with existentialism. Now I know the names of the great classical philosopher such as Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, and Joe the Bartender, but I really don’t give that much thought to philosophy or philosophers  unless it is connected to History. I do not spend my time pondering the great questions involving existence and the why. My answer to the question “Why are we here “?, is maybe because the Universe wants us here. Why the Universe wants us here I don’t know but if it has a reason it hasn’t told me about it and honestly the rhyme and reason would more than likely be far beyond my comprehension.

From the moment the human animal had its’ first thought it has wondered why. We are after all a most curious species and want to know and understand the reasoning behind everything. It is how we learn and advance. Most things we know or are on the verge of knowing. Other things we don’t know and perhaps never will. Such is the way of things. Like everyone one I have questions most of which I will either never know the answer or if I do won’t be able to fully understand it. We live in this Universe and where it came from we don’t know. Maybe the Big Bang was another Universe giving birth to ours at the hour of its’ ending. Perhaps when this Universe ceases it will give birth to another. I don’t know nor will I more than likely ever know, but then maybe when I die all my questions will be answered. If that is the case don’t know if it will do me any good other than start another round of Why questions. You know this kind of thinking could drive a body whacko. Sure is a hell of a lot of know and knowing going on. Sounds like the Biblical term for sex. OOPS! biblical that brings up bible which brings up Religion. Relax, already.  I am not going off on a rant about religion. Suffice it to say that whenever the human mind couldn’t fathom some phenomena it either gave credit to, or blamed it on God, the Gods, or the Boogeyman.

Throughout Human History there has been great thinkers, Philosophers, Scientists, Mathematicians, all searching for answers to various problems or happenings and as long as we remain curious there always will be those who seek the answers.. Hope one day they find the answer to all their questions. If they don’t, well maybe they are answers that we are never meant to know. No big deal. Life will go on and somewhere someone will be asking questions and being ignored because the Universe is working on the problem of trying to figure out why it brought us into existence.  Oh. yeah, before I go I have a question. Which really did come first the chicken or the egg? 



This morning in the Toronto Star I read an article entitled “America: In Guns We Trust”, and to be honest I shook my head in utter disbelief when I finished reading. According to this article when you step off the plane in Las Vegas you are met by a large billboard saying  “SHOOT A REAL MACHINE GUN” it is an advertisement for “The Gun Store” which for a price will let you fire a machine gun. For the price ranging from $25.00 to $777.00, depending on the package you want, you get to fire a semi-automatic weapon, which technically is not a machine gun but close as damn it to being one, depending on how fast you can pull the trigger. Full automatics are illegal. All types of people line up for this , so far 100,000 have paid their money and expended 12, 000,000 (Million) rounds. Why? The owner says because “It’s Cool”. Even children as young as six are allowed to fire the weapons as long as they are accompanied by an adult. If this isn’t proof of a nation in love with guns and violence, then what is. You  let any 6 year old fire a weapon like that, they’ll bug their parents’ for one for their birthday or Xmas. Oh! I forgot, this is their right and when the kid grows up and shoots someone the parents will congratulate him/her for their marksmanship.

How about a new prayer for the Americans that goes like this : “I believe in the Father, COLT, the Son, REMINGTON, and the Holy Spirit, SMITH & WESSON” or how about “I hold this Truth to be self evident; I can blow your ass away whenever I want to because the Constitution says I can”. Is it any wonder the weapons crime rate in the States is so high and why there are so many mass shootings. Any whacko can legally buy a semi-automatic with a computer background check and a 120 day waiting period. You see adds on TV about “What happens in Vegas. Stays in Vegas”, well something like this doesn’t stay it’s taken home. For a self proclaimed Christian Nation they sure as hell don’t believe in turning the other cheek or “Thou shalt not Kill” they should all turn their bibles in and replace them with the membership rules of the N.R.A. The Olive branch should be removed from their great seal and replaced with an assault rifle and instead of an eagle it should be a vulture.

The United States was born in violence, lives with violence and like most empires will likely die in violence. The problem with it dying is it will take a lot of others with it,  especially their northern neighbour on the continent. Most other peoples in the world have difficulty distinguishing between Canadians and Yankees. We look alike and we talk alike. I know of what I speak because I have been in many countries and inevitably I am mistaken for a Yank. Which, to be honest, really pisses me off. Guess though when you look at it from their perspective if it looks like a duck and talks like a duck, it’s a duck. Well we are not a duck. We are a Goose, a Canada Goose.

So for all the wanna be mass shooters in the U.S. take a trip to Vegas and starting at $25.00 you can get some practice in handling the machinegun of your choice. After all practice makes perfect and if you shoot enough people you’ll make it on the national news, maybe even the world news. 



The other day I received a cartoon  by E-mail from a cousin. Dead centre is Daffy Duck, on the left the caption “My mind doesn’t just wander’, on the right another caption “Sometimes it Fucks Off completely”. Well I started to laugh so hard and long that I nigh peed myself.  After I stopped I thought “Jeez Mo has pegged me good” which started another burst of laughter. Even as I write I’m chuckling thinking about it.

The cartoon struck me because there are times I swear my mind is out orbiting around Charon and if that ain’t F’ng Off I don’t know what is. Now I have facetiously written a few times about forgetting where I put things or forgetting to do something and maybe it has cause a few chuckles from those who read it but there are times when I wonder if this isn’t the start of some bigger problem. It has been suggested that I go to the doctor and have it checked out but I am of the old school that thinks what I don’t know it can’t hurt me. Anyway I have to be practically dying before I go to my Doctor. Peter, my Doctor of 33 years sure hasn’t gotten rich off of me even with O.H.I.P. also every time I go there he gives me shit for something, usually for smoking. It is now at the point that when I do see him the first thing he asks is “quit yet” answer “Nope” followed by “what’re you here for” and we get down to business.

One has to remember that I am approaching 70 (18 days) and I have a lot of information stored in my brain. So it is understandable that I can’t access it as fast as I use to. When I say a lot of info I mean a lot of info. I am an avid reader especially History. I love History so much that my family warns me when they take me to see movies like Braveheart or Troy to keep quiet and don’t criticize while everyone is watching because it is embarrassing. Wait till we get home. They don’t know how hard it is to bite my tongue. Anywho to get back to the wandering mind. I once told my boss she was nuts when she said that my oldest daughter use to live in apt. #303. I told her no way she lived in 503 and then 604. Guess what she lived in 303 and for the life of me I can’t remember. I think though, it is because there was no paper work as  it was a verbal agreement between the boss and her. I remember 503 ,and 604 because there was a written rental agreement and her sister lived with her. Now I have always had problems remembering names, faces no, and boy can that be embarrassing. Especially if it’s a woman and you happened to have slept with her. That’s when you look for a place to hide. Preferably under a rock. There was one tenant years ago who moved and I happened to run into her a year or so later. Couldn’t remember her name but I remembered her O.K. Not from her face but because the Gods had been very generous with her when it came to feminine  endowment. I know, chauvinistic as hell and I should be horse whipped. My only excuse is I couldn’t help but notice.  Hell they came around the corner 5 seconds before the rest of her. Also in my defense I remembered to ask about her husband and kids.

 On a more serious note. I do believe that my forgetting is just a sign of getting up there. If, and I say if,  I am on the road to dementia or Alzheimer’s then somebody please euthanize me as I do not want to spend the remainder of my life not knowing my girls. I might have done a few things in life that I’m not proud off but nothing so bad for the Fates to punish me like that.